i recently finished the book hourglass by dani shapiro, a wonderful memoir that i read effortlessly over the course of a week or two. i was struck by many of shapiro’s words, but this passage pierced me in a deep, knowing way – and i have found myself rereading it these past few weeks as the fall season continues to whizz by.
how do you suppose time works? a slippery succession of long hours adding up to ever-shorter days and years that disappear like falling dominoes?…the decades that separate that young mother making her lists from the middle-aged woman discovering them feel like the membrane of a giant floating bubble. a pinprick and i’m back there. but is she here? how can i tell her that her lists will not protect her?
i easily fall into this mentality – this list-making mentality. parent/teacher conference times and donations to finley’s classroom. target runs, meal planning and thank you notes to send out from edith’s birthday. spirit week for finley’s kindergarten, a field trip, soccer games on saturday mornings. and is there a yoga class i can get to somewhere in there? time to write? a date with pat?
when i am out somewhere on my own with all three, i get this comment (every time): you sure have your hands full. and do you know what i say back? (every time): yep, thank goodness i do.
i sometimes get very tired, and i sometimes worry very much about how time moves so quickly by. but i am finding that it doesn’t take much to whip me back into energy, light, presence. it doesn’t take much at all. it takes sitting for a moment, on the sofa, and looking out, looking up, looking around. looking at the life, all around me.
the morning light casting sharp shadows in the playroom; the breeze making leaves in my backyard dance all around. three kids, two dogs, six chicks. (oh yeah, we now have chicks, because, of course we do.)
and yes, i make lists.
and yes, my hands are full.
and i know which one protects me.