In the spirit of imperfection being, well, kind of perfect, I wanted to share these seemingly random thoughts about the way life is so very lifey:
* This coming weekend is my 30th high school reunion. As one of the organizers of the event, I’m compelled to note that a bunch of significant relationships have busted up quite recently or in recent years—and there have been other losses too, health scares, parents’ passing, and beyond those really tangible tough experiences, plenty of messy old life. We’ve lost two classmates. Growing pains are not reserved for the very young.
What I am noting—even before laying eyes on anyone in person—is along with this kind of wow, big stuff theme is another and it is gratitude. Go figure. Makes sense to me, from where I’m sitting.
I feel, not surprisingly, in anticipation of this make a loop on your life event by seeing your old friends just a bit shaken up, not in a bad way, more of oh, here I am, now where am I, exactly? Being laid up in bed exhausted over the weekend has me a bit vulnerable, and wondering how I go so very fast constantly (as my dear husband says of me: never idle). I’m craving a little more… idleness? Not exactly, no, but I am craving a chance to think in a more measured way and do a reboot that might offer a little more breathing room.
That, and I want to plant arugula and put in some berry bushes, tomato plants and basil and rosemary. I share this desire—a seasonal urge apropos of nothing—except it feels connected.
* It’s my personal observation (at least in our household) that the older the majority of the kids get the less planned-out their summer activities remain for longer. I find this nervous making.
I trust all will be well, regardless.
* Meantime, if you are somewhere in the adoption triad (as it is often called), that is to say adopted child, adoptive parent, first parent—and you read about adoption via the blogosphere—you will be acutely and sorely aware that Mother’s Day is fast approaching (and Birthmother’s Day, which I personally really do not favor). I was never much of a Mother’s Day observer myself, and never ever cared to be pampered as such on that very day.
However, a dozen years into being a mother, becoming an adoptive mama has made me pause on that holiday and note it anew. I want always to honor the mother I am privileged to share motherhood with, Saskia’s first mom. I stop and feel grateful that I was entrusted to do so. I feel with new awe how complicated a supposedly straightforward role—mother—actually is, for us, and for so many other people for as many reasons. And at the very same time, I know that love remains a simple thing, too. I am fortunate to have love in abundance. So is Saskia.
To that end, along with sending cards to mother, stepmother, mother-in-law, and sisters who are mothers, I send one gift now each year. I realize it’s but a token. Sometimes, all you can do is extend the token.
* Saskia spent much of last week when we were walking places together declaring, “Ooh! Dandelion!” before pulling up the bright yellow weed (excuse me, beautiful flower). I could not have been more tickled by this. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.
Now that the dandelions have progressed, some of them, to blowy white orbs, she has no interest in the neon blooms, only in blowing. She hasn’t yet gotten the notion of the wish.
