Non Sequiturs
Lilacs soaked in sunshine, and when I was walking down the purple road, Mt. Rainier like a ghost rose and filled the sky with snowy sloping shoulders.
Oh, no, that was when I was at Walmart, actually, on a quest to find twenty pots and twenty saucers for a Mother's Day project tomorrow. Seeing Mt. Rainier from the Walmart parking lot blends the spectacular with the mundane. Does anyone know that flight reaction that starts in your feet and spreads up your legs like a rash, when you've finally made it out of the labyrinths of Walmart, have cleared the turning carousel of plastic bags, and reached the automatic doors? Baby, I feel like running into the pure air again. I wonder how many times I've bounded joyfully across the Walmart parking lot toward my car, my lungs full of air, blissfully aware that I will not have to return in many moons!
And yet, seeing Mt. Rainier on the edge of the parking lot should have reminded me to take wonder even in such a task.
Merry participated in her first Math Olympiad contest today, and came home exultant with a ribbon that informs the world that she and her team are excellent mathletes. I looked at her in awe and breathed, "To think, a daughter of mine. . ."
Merry has sprouted wings this last year and is flying about around our shoulders, scraping the ceiling with her wing tips. And it is because of her and the other girls, as well as our own feelings, that we must find a way to stay here for a while.
Ah, I think so often these days, what will the next months hold for us? It's not a non sequitur, just the constant hum in the back of my head, all the time, what, and when, and how easy or how hard? It's getting irritating, our own personal fly. Bzzz, what will you do, bzzzz. . . .
Let me ask you another question, linked to the former, which will also seem like a non sequitur, but is not: do you trust the rational and predictable, or do you trust the random and nonsensical more? Martin and I have been figuring out this year that though we may sometimes prefer the first, we trust the second more when it informs our futures. Say, for instance, someone suddenly suggests that Martin may enjoy law, and then that same day, someone else entirely unrelated and uniformed says, "Here me out before you say anything. Martin, I think you'd make a great lawyer."
Say WHA?
Then again, when we'd been married a year and Martin suddenly told me he'd decided to pursue an MFA in poetry despite his steady job, I couldn't believe my ears. Come again?
Seemingly so random, and yet, if Martin decides to go that route, I'd trust it partly because it seemed so out of left field. There are, as he (and the person who posited it as an option) pointed out, many parallels to his gifts and talents.
So, if any of you out there know or are lawyers in this area, please let us know! Perhaps it is yet one more rabbit trail, but perhaps, perhaps. . . .who knows?
In the meanwhile, we'll walk down the purple roads, soaked in sunshine, until the rain returns, and then we'll walk them again in the glow of soaked color.
Oh, no, that was when I was at Walmart, actually, on a quest to find twenty pots and twenty saucers for a Mother's Day project tomorrow. Seeing Mt. Rainier from the Walmart parking lot blends the spectacular with the mundane. Does anyone know that flight reaction that starts in your feet and spreads up your legs like a rash, when you've finally made it out of the labyrinths of Walmart, have cleared the turning carousel of plastic bags, and reached the automatic doors? Baby, I feel like running into the pure air again. I wonder how many times I've bounded joyfully across the Walmart parking lot toward my car, my lungs full of air, blissfully aware that I will not have to return in many moons!
And yet, seeing Mt. Rainier on the edge of the parking lot should have reminded me to take wonder even in such a task.
Merry participated in her first Math Olympiad contest today, and came home exultant with a ribbon that informs the world that she and her team are excellent mathletes. I looked at her in awe and breathed, "To think, a daughter of mine. . ."
Merry has sprouted wings this last year and is flying about around our shoulders, scraping the ceiling with her wing tips. And it is because of her and the other girls, as well as our own feelings, that we must find a way to stay here for a while.
Ah, I think so often these days, what will the next months hold for us? It's not a non sequitur, just the constant hum in the back of my head, all the time, what, and when, and how easy or how hard? It's getting irritating, our own personal fly. Bzzz, what will you do, bzzzz. . . .
Let me ask you another question, linked to the former, which will also seem like a non sequitur, but is not: do you trust the rational and predictable, or do you trust the random and nonsensical more? Martin and I have been figuring out this year that though we may sometimes prefer the first, we trust the second more when it informs our futures. Say, for instance, someone suddenly suggests that Martin may enjoy law, and then that same day, someone else entirely unrelated and uniformed says, "Here me out before you say anything. Martin, I think you'd make a great lawyer."
Say WHA?
Then again, when we'd been married a year and Martin suddenly told me he'd decided to pursue an MFA in poetry despite his steady job, I couldn't believe my ears. Come again?
Seemingly so random, and yet, if Martin decides to go that route, I'd trust it partly because it seemed so out of left field. There are, as he (and the person who posited it as an option) pointed out, many parallels to his gifts and talents.
So, if any of you out there know or are lawyers in this area, please let us know! Perhaps it is yet one more rabbit trail, but perhaps, perhaps. . . .who knows?
In the meanwhile, we'll walk down the purple roads, soaked in sunshine, until the rain returns, and then we'll walk them again in the glow of soaked color.
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