Bedtime

The mere thought of bedtime brings memories of my father tucking us in at night. As I grew older, bedtime was more a struggle. The teen years brought bedtime as a time to sneak out, living in the basement....made it much easier, I'll admit. Then in college bedtime was a permanent challenge for me, who would be beside me, who would I share the intimate shadows of the ever waing moon with? And then I found love. Or what I believed was love. That sustained me through graduate school, and even a few years later. The Upper Peninsula was a magical place where all the demons of bedtime disappeared. And then they returned wirh a vengeance ten years ago.
Of course there were years where bedtime was early, for my daughter, my one true love in this world. Then, there were years where it meant nothing but a challenge to see who I could entice and discard quickly. Now, bedtime is a glass of red, a good book, a kiss from my husband, a giggle and a sigh from my daughters. Bedtime has taken a calm pallor from the days gone by. However, every once in awhile she rears up and demands an encore of those earlier days. It is then I raise my glass in salute to her, a bold, wild girl of years past, and say "prozits" and grin from ear to ear because I am older, wiser, but defintely not in it for the long run.

Simple's Hard Enough Now Anyway...

Quiet evening, glass of wine, indie film...and these damn song lyrics. In a black and white film love seems simpler. The girl's hair is messy, her lipstick's smudged over her bee-stung lips, and her idiosyncrasies aren't cloying but clever. The boy hasn't showered, he's walked all night through rainy city streets, and the cigarette he stubs out while standing in the street outside her window is sexy.

Art is a lie that tells the truth.

I don't remember who said that, and I may be misquoting. Years ago I worked so hard at being affected. I wanted to be that girl in the film, sometimes so badly I could taste the bitterness on the back of my tongue. As a teenager, I think Q. was the closest I ever got, a truckstop coffeeshop amidst the steelyards, a cigarette, scribbling poetry on napkins. A roadtrip to grad school only landed me in a frozen tundra of mediocrity.

There are no grand gestures. My name isn't linked to another scrolled across an overpass or carved into a redwood. I never actually thought it would happen. Simple's hard enough now anyway.

Vagabond Seeks Nomad for Endless Travels...

That's what my personal ad might say...if I needed one. I am officially married now, which does not make me tied down. On the contrary, this kite has found her string and he's just as excited to float above the earth as she is. It's only been a few short weeks of marriage, but already I find myself learning new things about him. He always has a back up plan. He can charm anyone, even the crankiest of people. In my darkest hour, he made me smile, even when all I wanted to do was cry. He keeps his emotions well below the surface, though once in awhile he lets me see them. I am more in love with him now than when I met him. And plain and simple...I am happy.

I've missed a few months of blogging, hell I've missed most of my summer in New England! I've been off with the new husband gallavanting around the country. A wedding in San Antonio (not ours), beach days in Maine with my darling daughter, family whirlwind to DisneyWorld in Florida, some heartfelt Hoosier time in Indiana, our wedding/honeymoon all in one in Arizona, and I'm finally home again. Just in time to start a new year of school. Back to that little thing called work. I wonder if the students realize that we teachers are just as unhappy that summer is ending as they are? Ahhh well, the crispness of September is just around the corner and Autumn in New England is a sight to behold.

Here's to many great new beginnings!

The ice is melting...

Call it Spring Fever, call it Cabin Fever, call it whatever you'd like, but I have wanderlust. And the lust of late is Iceland. Yes, Iceland....the girl who loves nothing better than a tropical island with white sand beaches and palm trees wants to go to Reyjkavik.

Fact #1: Iceland is warmer than Greenland. Those darn Vikings had everyone fooled when they claimed and named the land.
Fact #2: Iceland is a volcanic island and filled with hot springs. Apparently you can pull over on the side o' the road and hop in for free!
Fact #3: The Northern Lights (need I say more?)
Fact #4: It has the world's longest lasting democracy and no need for an armed forces
Fact #5: It's cheap right now. And I live right now.

I'm not running away from anything this time....no, this time I'm running to somewhere. And more importantly, I want to take Dan and Lauren with me. I know that my friends, my family, my colleagues will all say that I take too many vacations as it is, and that I spend too much money travelling, but there is a big world out there, and I am one small human. The race is long and if I don't keep up the pace now, I won't finish it.

Unfinished Endings

It's been a long day, new semester, new students, too many portfolios to grade, too many worries about household expenses and health concerns, lost friends, new relationships, and I was bone tired when I came home tonight. Now it's late and I cannot sleep. I'd like to believe that this too, is just a symptom, a side effect of stress. The world is moving too fast these days and it's been too long since I've turned to the pen, my blog.

I don't quite know who I am anymore.

The girl I was when I moved here ten years ago has all but disappeared. There was so much I wanted then, and those things haven't gone away, just been pushed aside for more practical purposes. The whimsical workshops, classes in jewelry making and gourmet cooking replaced by workshops to certify for ELL trainings. Weekends in a little trailer by the seaside replaced by luxury vacations in Hawaii, Vegas, and Arizona. Tiptoeing around a house that was never mine, fighting for every inch of space, only to have three floors to call my own now. I remember dancing around my kitchen late at night with the cat in my arms, and then my daughter. Now they both have grown up, grown independent from me. I swirled around a universe with many stars , gathering them all close to me, and I've let many of them go, friends of ten years have fallen into that black hole of space.

It surprises me to see what I've become, a mother, a teacher, a girlfriend, a daughter, a neighbor, a friend...but there were so many possibilities. What happens to the unfinished endings? Do they drift floating in limbo, just waiting for someone to finish them up or do they dissolve, like salt crystals in seawater. There are threads hanging from every life, and my mother always told me not to pull them, for fear of unraveling the entire piece. Somedays I would like to take the scissors and cut them off, searing the edges, but that would be too easy.

Yes, that would be too easy.

Part Two

Hemingway wrote a small poem called "Part Two" in his book A Movable Feast," and tonight reminds me of that poem. I stood on my kitchen deck and looked out upon the early November dusk and wondered where my summer went. I haven't posted on my blog since June, my once a month post taking a hiatus for California, Hawaii, Indiana, Arizona and a little bit of mental craziness. So here it is, November, and I've missed almost all of Autumn in New England.
The trees have all shaken their coats of leaves to the ground, most of which I painstakingly raked up (and I have the poison ivy to prove it).

So Hemingway expresses this expectation of sadness in Autumn that permeates the soul, fixates upon every breath, seems to hold on a little too long and a little too tightly. Every wind whispers through the trees, winter is coming, winter is coming. And tonight as I watched the lava flow of color in the sky, brilliant oranges, pinks and ensuing purples and deep blues, I took a long sip of my wine and thought about pervasive sadness. About the winter and the melancholy it brings for some. There is a tough season for all. There are rough patches that we must learn to weather and not give up quite so easily. Because as Hemingway reminds us, the Spring will come again and the rivers will flow again.

I was inexplicably sad, even though the temperature was especially balmy for a November evening, because somewhere in all the chaos of life, somewhere in all of my lists and my planning, I lost something vital. But I know it will come around again.

Graduation Day

Tonight is the quietest night, the air is still and there seem to be no trains in the distance, no birds twittering in the twilight. Even my neighbors are silent. It's as if the world has taken in all the excitement and let it out with one enormous hushed breath.

I left graduation this afternoon with a feeling of elation I couldn't explain, not to my parents nor to Dan in the voicemail I left for him. They aren't my children, but they were mine. For four years, they were mine. And today, I let all 360 of them go.

A glass of wine in an empty house seemed the way to mourn their leaving. And I am inexplicably sad. I know that each and every one of them will go on to do amazing things, some more amazing than others, but each in their own unique way. Last week, my class president asked me to give the class of 2009 advice on film, to be recorded for senior night and for reunions to come. I was caught off guard, told them I loved them, shared my favorite quote by poet Mary Oliver, and wished them well.

Now, there are things I wished I had told them.

1. Hold out. Hold out for true love, not the idea of love. For the right time to have kids. For someone who will take care of your heart like they do their own. Hold out for good champagne, cheap stuff will give you a headache. Hold out for friends who will support you and keep your integrity.

2. Travel. Alone. At least once. Find your own adventure.

3. Get a theme song. Play it in your head when you walk into a room.

4. Party like a rock star. Don't let the moment go by and wish it back later.

5. Drink. Even if it's only a Seagrams Cooler or more orange juice than vodka. Enjoy the small things in life like a pre-dinner cocktail.

6. Dance every day.

7. Rock those jeans, no matter what size you are! Love yourself.

8. Listen to your inner voice. Take the time to be quiet. Yoga.

9. Let yourself float high, but never lose touch with the earth.

10. Do one thing every day that scares you.

I stood on that stage this afternoon, called out each name with joy and reverence. This was a new experience for me, to be on the other side of the podium for once. To know what it is like to look out upon the potential of our future generations...that is something I will never lose, something that is mine to hold. For this, I am grateful.