Gramma Goes to the Lake

I’m skirting around the subject for now. I sit at my brand new computer, feeling like I’m recreating everything. In my vulnerability, I’m going forward, after a long period of sitting in what felt like dampness.

I had booked myself in to be with Steven that week. My body felt nothing but exhaustion, but when I had the chance to hold him in my arms and then watch him, giddy, ‘running running running’, I felt as though I had levitated somewhat into another world, some place above. The mire of wet mud that had been pulling my legs downward, suddenly let go and I was connected to other aspects of life and living. Most importantly, I was connected with my grandson, a personality who has more than once, shared with me the powerful innate sense of ‘being’, fully being, apart from everything but the sensory core of wonder. In a strange way, this is the exact same wonder I had been present to with my brother.

After breakfast and teeth-brushing, we loaded up the stroller with the big yellow truck and headed out on our adventure. It was with an openness to the world that we examined a pile of old leaves pressed up against the protection of a stair well, felt sand under our feet, threw sand into the water (stoop, back over head, release, stoop, back over head, release, a rhythm again and again…a series of new mechanical actions, each time followed with a laugh) and made observations of geese. While Steven wasn’t aware, Gramma was also silently moaning that she didn’t bring her Canon, as a male loon drifted by on the silky smooth lake water.

My own drifting movement through the muted spring background kept me present, concerned and in keen observation. “These are important times,” I thought to myself. “This grandson of yours is learning and practicing and discovering all of these moments and making new connections. You had better not miss out on any of it.” Morning was a gift.

This morning is a gift. I will be brave today.

Cherry Ames: Student Nurse by Helen Wells

Recently I have seen a number of cast off books reinvented as journals, notebooks and art and so I have kept my eyes open for unusual bits when I go looking for my panels for painting on Wednesday night at the Gorilla House.  So, I gathered up a few interesting ones just today and I’m going to post some of the more unique features of some of them here. (This, a way to avoid putting the boxes of tree ornaments downstairs, now that I have dragged my poor dry tree to the back alley for the wood chipper.)

Cherry Ames: Student Nurse by Helen Wells is the first book of a series produced in 1943.  Inside this particular copy, I found a piece of folded paper towel.  Carefully, I unfolded the towel to reveal four leafed clover!  Does this mean good fortune for this year?  I think so!

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