The ten-minute post

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We’ve entered end-of-school-year madness. I added to the madness by turning my ankle in Sunday evening’s soccer game, which we won short-handed, and so it was worth it. Right? Priorities, Carrie, priorities. I actually heard my ankle make a snapping sound as I landed on the grass, and so did the woman with whom I’d collided, and she looked at me, lying in the grass, and said, “Um, are you okay?” and I said, “Yeah, I don’t know.” In fact, it didn’t hurt, and still doesn’t, just feels stiff and is swollen. I’m taking a few days off to see how it heals, but so far my body seems to know what it’s doing. I’m icing it, resting it, and I promise not to play on it until it’s healed. Promise. Okay? Because I’d like to play all summer, please.

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Yesterday morning, bum ankle and all, I headed off to Toronto to meet with a new editor. We got to work in a pleasant coffee shop and ran all the way through my new novel. I’ve now got tentative deadlines toward which to work on both of my new book projects. Woot, woot! The first of the picture book revisions are due at the end of this week (this will go back and forth a few more times: a couple hundred words is harder to perfect than you might think), and I’ll be revising the novel over the summer. My older kids have been officially hired to babysit their younger siblings, for a fair whack of cash, and both are treating the project with respect. Hopes are high, all around.

Now I’m between appointments: allergist this morning with my asthmatic athlete, and grade six graduation ceremony in a few minutes, for which I volunteered to stay afterward and clean up (why???). And then I’m praying for a few hours in which to work. Please.

I love to sit and work. And be quiet.

And: go!

:::

I must add a P.S.

No one told me to bring tissues to the graduation ceremony. I mean, it’s just grade six, right? Sure, he’s going to a new school next year, and he’s been here for EIGHT YEARS, and oh, wait, this is a big deal. One of the teachers put together a video that had me wiping away tears from the get-go. The grade six graduates were shown in side by side photos, as kindergartners, and as they are now, young people on the cusp of teenage-hood. Something about witnessing their changes turned me wobbly inside, and it wasn’t even about looking at my own kid, or at kids I’ve known all these years — it was all of them, all of these precious lives blooming in what seems like fast-forward. We don’t get to stay the same. We don’t get to keep these kids, either. How caught we are in time.

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Slow down, you move too fast
I got on my bike

3 Comments

  1. Eek! So sorry to hear about your ankle. It must be very difficult for you to remain off it. Please take care of yourself!

    Also, this made me smile: “a couple hundred words is harder to perfect than you might think” because as a poet, I know how long it can take. Sometimes years for me! Very excited that you’ll have a picture book soon(ish) and I’m very much looking forward to hearing more news about your novel. Yay!

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  2. I cried too! I hold this sweet sadness of all the years past and ahead of us. I can remember the faces of so many of those kids from 8 years ago and see the face of my SK girl now and wonder what she’ll look like at grade 6. I remember your son with that wonderful curly hair.

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  3. Have you seen the documentary the UP series? A totally genius British doc that follows 14 kids from different socioeconomic backgrounds & films them every 7 years (the first was 7up, the last is 56Up) — very much about being caught in time. Really moving.

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