Wordless Wednesday goes to the beach
Category: Photos
Snapshots, here and there
I have such beautiful photos from our time at my brother and sister-in-law’s farm this weekend. You’d never guess there were swarms of mosquitos, which is the beauty of photographs. They transport you somewhere else without physical immersion, and that is also their downside, I suppose, too. You’re there, but not there.
We were there.
And now we’re not.
I’m spending these last few days before school’s out working rather frantically to organize myself for the summer. I’ve got a long list of must-does and want-to-does and due dates. Posting to the blog is a want-to-do. I’ve decided to do it even though it means not neglecting a must-do. Even though it will be done in a rush before I need to meet the school bus.
Snapshot: yesterday, 8:35PM. Home.
I pull into the driveway with AppleApple. We climb out of vehicle, her loaded with soccer gear, me with rain gear and computer. Dogs at the door barking frantically. “Knock,” I direct her, searching for keys. “Why am I knocking?” “Your brother should be home from his party. He’s here.”
Van pulls into driveway. Kevin and Fooey and CJ emerge from friends’ vehicle, Kevin loaded with soccer gear, Fooey with soccer gear, CJ with school backpack.
Brother opens door. Frantic barking. “Someone let the dogs outside!” More frantic barking. “Not out the front door!”
Pile of wet soccer cleats, socks, and shin pads blocks front hall, along with school backpacks. I stumble in. Fooey reports on game. CJ reports on something I can’t take in. Everyone hungry. “How was the pool party?” I want to know. “Was it rained out?”
AppleApple and I sit down to eat cold supper. Fooey reads out loud from her report card; coincidentally it is the section on reading. I prevent AppleApple from pointing out the irony, as Fooey struggles with the big words. CJ opens his report card, stacks pieces of paper beside my plate, moans that Fooey is taking too long. Kevin emerges from dragging soccer balls to basement, makes CJ a bedtime snack. I interrupt Fooey to summarize CJ’s report card out loud. Fooey complains. I read part of her report card out loud. She gets to work filling out her section of the report card.
I clear food off table. Kevin starts school lunches.
Fooey and CJ argue in the bathroom over who gets to brush teeth first. I try to gather up everyone’s loose bits of report cards and pile them together. Haul up laundry basket from basement. Wipe down table. Pick CJ up. Wait while CJ updates Kevin on the outcomes of recess soccer games; too much detail. Arm muscles fading. Carry CJ, still reporting on recess soccer games, upstairs. Tuck CJ in. Try to convince CJ to stop talking. Point out time: good grief, it’s 9:27! Retreat. Return. Retreat.
Tuck in Fooey.
Invite son downstairs to report further on pool party and open report card. Son comes down. Report card scrutinized. Questions about party asked. Start folding laundry on the dining-room table. “Is that all the questions?” “I might have a few more …” “If that’s all the questions, I’m going upstairs.” Forget to remind him to brush his teeth.
Notice AppleApple on couch, doing email. “Are you still up? Aren’t you swimming in the morning?” “Am I?” “I’ll check with your coaches.” Email coaches. Coach confirms practice. Child goes to bed.
“How many days of laundry is this? Look at this basket. It’s not even half-empty.” Despairingly observe it’s after 10PM.
Kevin doing dishes.
Discussion of … soccer, news items, report cards, flotsam and jetsam.
Laundry folded. Remember there’s another load in the drier. Decide to forget I’ve remembered. Set alarm for 5AM. Don’t decide to forget to comment on and sign report cards; just forget. The dogs are still up. The dishes are done. And there’s still time to read in bed.
Hashtagthismoment
Enjoying the peace of this photo. Or maybe it’s the pause. The moment suspended.
In a rush. Monday morning. Dog can’t decide whether she wants in or out. Need to get on bike and get to a school meeting. Still not getting enough sleep.
I’m tempted to put all of the above into hashtag form, but I don’t know why. Maybe hashtags are kind of like miniature poems? Or maybe I should just sign up on Instagram? Here’s how it would look …
#inarush #Mondaymorning #dogatdoor #biking #meeting #moretiredthansleepcancure
:::
Just have to add a postscript. Goes like this.
#bikechainblues #argh #greasecoveredhands #foreverrushing #notquitelate
Snapshots
That thing woven into her hair is a dandelion. Yesterday, at recess, she and her friends celebrated a completely invented ritual called The Commencement of the Dandelion Festival.
She tells me this, and then she heads off to play a soccer game.
On his 13th birthday, Kevin and I take him out for lunch. (Fries with gravy, a milkshake, and a banquet burger.)
Also on his 13th birthday, his soccer team wins their game, and AppleApple and I pick up a cake from DQ on our way home from her game. He mentions that it’s been a great birthday.
It’s around 9:30 PM when we gather to blow out the candles. For some of us, DQ cake is supper.
Some of us don’t seem to mind.
Friday evening. Tuna melt supper for him, leftovers for me. He’s played soccer in the living alone for too long. He’s bored. It’s only the two of us, alone in the house. And so, of course, we sit at the dining-room table and colour together. We make it into a game. It’s the kind of “fun” activity I cajole my children into doing, when we “play” together. We haven’t done this for a few years. I sign my name to my picture, age 39. He signs his name to his picture, age 6.
Feed, play, love
trampoline pals
We basked in glorious weather this weekend. We tuned bikes, ate outside, and got a bit too much sun on our noses. But I have to tell you. There is grief and worry rivering under our spring gladness — it feels false not to write about it here, and yet I’ve been hesitating to do so, being as this is not a story directly about me. But here it is. My stepmother (my dad’s wife) has been diagnosed with cancer. All who’ve had illness alight when least expected must know how this feels: shock, sadness, determination, all mingling together with a sense of helplessness, and the parallel impatience to get going already and live each day. Maybe it’s why I’ve been running so much lately. I don’t know. But that’s the other thing I did this weekend: I ran a long way. The mind goes quiet, when running a long way, and the body begins to take over and grow stronger until the mind has almost nothing to say anymore, but waits in stillness and calm, amazed at the effort accessible to the body in this state that seems to me almost intensely serene.
Supper prep is calling. Get going: eat, drink, jump, play, run, but most of all love.
Let’s call it spring
Very briefly, last weekend, it felt like spring.
I took these photos on Monday, when the big kids were at soccer and swimming, and the little kids and I hung out in the backyard, basking in the sunshine.
Then it went and got all cold again. So we haven’t basked since.
But I’m still prepared to call it spring. It feels like things are happening, or about to happen, fomenting under the surface. Late bright evenings, early bright mornings. Reading, running, playing, being outside again. It’s about to get really busy and, I hope, really colourful.