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Showing posts from May, 2013

shell

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On the occasion that we can go to my grandmother's house I take the kids down to the lake.  A short walk and we step into another world.  The wind whips our hair and stirs the water into a fury; you can hardly hear yourself speak.  It's good to be silent once in a great while.  To let something besides the noise of your life take over. 
More amazing than the wind and the waves is the what is under our feet.  A small area of land covered in shells.  Not sand.  Some rocks.  But mostly discarded shells.
The light catches the pearl, a beauty only some sort of god can create.
The kids and I stand on broken pieces and take as much as our hands and pockets can manage.  We work in a silent tandem, only talking to show some amazing work of nature.
 The whites and darks.
The smooth and the jagged.
The straight and the spirals.
 The contrasts are never ending.
This feeling is never ending
Shells crush beneath our feet.
The wind catches our hair.
And suddenly you feel like you are more.

Out of Sorts Meatloaf and Such As

I have been feeling a bit out of sorts lately.  That kind of sort where one thing goes wrong it ruins my whole day/week/month/year.  Get myself together and such as and for and to be continued when the stars align with Jupiter and Mother Earth is in third sign.
Milk! I forgot milk at the grocery store again!  You can see the sort that I am out of.  It's just focus.  It's not there.  I never realized how much I need order.  You never realize how much you need something until it's gone or broken or you finally get it and suddenly it's taken away.  You know what I mean?
I have been working in the Special Education departments at many schools in our district lately.  It's funny how different teacher subscribe to different philosophies.  Even funnier to have two teacher subscribe to the same philosophy and perceive it in two different ways.  Everyone has their own ideas.  The thing is to never be stuck in your one idea.  Change is always good.   The weather changes and…

six

I am sitting here trying to remember what it was like to be a six year old girl.  It was a long time ago.  I don't remember much at all.  Nothing really.  Do most people remember themselves that young?  There are some little moments that strike me.  I can close my eyes and picture my first grade room, but really it could be any class room at any time in my young life.  I think I remember what my bed looked like, my favorite toy.  But these could be moments mixed up in time, memories from other spaces and place.  Dreams.

My daughter is six.  I am guessing it's not easy being six.  This overwhelming desire to be independent with a desperate need for love and attention.  It's a confusing thing.  Times when she want to ride her bike around the block only to get half way there and have a need to turn around.  To make sure someone is there to protect her.  I see that in her eyes.  She pedals slowly enjoying her freedom.  On the other side she moves faster to get home.  There wa…