For all that the brown boy and I are friends with each other, we fight enough. Here’s a hurriedly drawn page from one of 2018’s journals, when I was trying to figure out our new toaster…and he said something especially mean.
[Transcript: Breakfast for busy parents like us is usually hurried. A cup of coffee while prepping the son for school, a bowl of oats while packing my lunchbox. Today we sat down to eat figs and oranges and it was so relaxing. And it seemed like time stopped for a while peeling the fruit. The zest sparkling in the morning light. The smell of oranges in the air.] Title: Mary Lamb.
I thought I was good with words, but there’s always so much to learn. If you’re in a position of influence, your vocabulary, your tone and your attitude can have such a ripple effect.
Title: Marshall McLuhan
My survival and stress relief strategy has always been through drawing.
Anteater: Just writing the word won’t make them disappear, you know…
When I was younger I usually drew everyday, but since becoming a parent it’s every other day, and always on weekends. Looking back at all my published and unpublished work I always feel grateful for this gift.
“Everyday do something that gives to you.”Yours truly
Every other month there’s a week when all I’m doing is working. Maybe you have a week or two like that as well. Working, commuting, working, and then suddenly you look up and day has turned to night.
Today the brown boy and I celebrate fifteen years of being married. I am incredibly proud of this milestone, but the entire credit goes to him – who knew patience could last that long?
He’s put up with my weirdness, taken full responsibility of being the parent to our child
…all for the pleasure being in this blog!
He’s the Bergman to my Ullman,
my sense of home and my ends of days:
This marriage may have been a mistake but I would make it again to live through all these years with this brown boy again.
And here’s the drawing that I made after our first anniversary: We had sat and watched the waves in Bandstand.
Sometimes words don’t mean anything at all.
I come from a family of extremely strong women (and some men) who do not let the great tragedies and misfortunes of life stand in their path. Having seen their amazing fortitude all my life, I usually feel guilty when indulging in self pity…this is my way of dealing with difficult days:
“I don’t want to eat breakfast…”