Leaves

"Hey! Mom! This is so you: 'Some people go through life like leaves blowing in the wind. They skitter from one place to another, never seeming to belong anywhere. Sometimes they stop for a while, but then the wind blows and they're off again. That's the way it was with Elaine.' "

The above, an excerpt from my eleven year old's language skills composition book. She read it to me today, substituting my name (with emphasis) for another.

This kid scares me with her insight. Really.

Drowning

I am almost used to living in a small town. Admittedly, I am still perplexed and frustrated that grocery stores actually close on Easter. I envy those who are organized enough to have every item necessary to prepare a beautiful bounty on a holiday long before the day arrives. It's difficult to get used to seeing people everywhere one goes, and I don't just mean out food shopping. 


 I just cannot get into food. Let's talk about mother guilt I feel when my eleven year old told me how sadly disappointed she is that I am not the "cook the Easter ham kind of mom".  Ouch. When I suggested perhaps her father just married the wrong woman, she simply said, "But, mom, I LOVE food..." (just like her dad.) Sometimes I simply feel I can't be bothered to think about preparing meals. I dread the time commitment.  


Even though my kids didn't get a traditional holiday dinner this Easter, I kind of feel we made up for it with the time spent on the river both days of the weekend. Between wakeboarding and paddleboarding, we had our fill of sun and water fun. I can't get enough of that paddleboard, particularly when it was preceded by a bonus 13 mile run I didn't anticipate. As sorry as I am for Marc destroying his foot on razor-sharp oyster shells last weekend in the river, I happily stand in as second string when Eddie calls looking for a running partner. 


Less than one mile into our run, we bumped into another local junkie, Stephen, who had just finished 112 miles on the bike and was 8.5 miles into his run. We tried to coax him to join our reindeer games, but he politely declined when he learned our course...and continued on his merry way toward home. The run was bright and beautiful, though warm by this vampire's standards. Running at 4:30 every morning doesn't lend itself toward acclimating to toasty afternoons, though by all accounts, today was rather mild. The beach was packed and teaming with life. It was nothing short of joyous to run on hard packed sand and drink in the salt air, another advantage to running in daylight, as opposed to by moonlit Braille along street reflectors.  


I had another dream I was drowning last night. I can't shake these repetitious and alarming images from my head.  I'm not sure why I think I can't swim, but I am going to have to get over fear of the ocean if I am to work junior guards this summer. It may be worth considering that most of those around me have great confidence in most everything I do, but maybe I struggle with accepting and appreciating the magnitude of what gifts I do possess. Some of this may be stress-induced from the frantic pace at which I conduct the schedule, always sprinting to the next commitment, and trying to outrun the clock. In general, I know I have people in my life who think highly of what I am trying to accomplish from day to day. Perhaps swimming is just symbolic of what I think I lack.


Maybe I can "swim" better than I think I can.