Saturday, February 02, 2008

Notes on Winter 2007-2008

On the coldest day this year, we watched a children's ice skating class and the girls' blades were so brilliant in the sun that Nutmeg and her friend insisted that they had "light up skates."

The sun left with the severe cold and now the daytime sky is gray as an old water pump. But at night as I rock the baby to sleep the sky glows and I pass the time trying to name its color. I balance between peach ice cream and blood plasma when it comes to me -- mango lassi. I think of all that travel behind me, mountains walked upon and last-minute trains and cheap meals cooked by locals in dirty hallway kitchens, and here I sit, rocking, drinking in the same scenery every night -- a glowing winter sky cut into stained glass windows by the thorny branches of our winter tree.

I went out to shovel after a particularly difficult day this week. The inside was full of noise and clutter and emotion and demands -- one daughter hating me and wanting to "throw (me) in the garbage" and the other teething and sucking on me every few minutes and taking advantage of her close position to claw at my face with nails that needed cutting, by me.

Outside was that magical fresh snow feeling that pedestrians not motorists can appreciate. No mess, no clutter, just a simple job to do under that milky sky tinged with faint sweetness.

On the corner of the next block a couple of people were ice skating at the outdoor rink in the park. I thought of my ice skates somewhere in the basement and imagined Epu and I skating hand in hand. Within view of our house, within the range of the baby monitor, probably, but we couldn't go there, not without a sitter. Looked through the front windows into the pretty rooms with the walls we painted and the children's toys.

2 comments:

gram said...

one can tell are a jounalist.. through your words i can see, through your eyes and my minds eye as well . you remind me of my children growing up hating me , and loving me and that comes with the joys of motherhood.. the wishful thinking brings back the long gone times when my children were small. so fast are the fleeting years. i know its difficult to give up many dreams to be able to raise children.. but you and epu have seen more of the world than the average parent.. live through those memories and cherish the girls while they're young.. remember when they are young , they eat from your breast and when they are old they eat from your heart.. a mothers time is forever... but would we want it any other way?
hugs gram

Văn Sát said...

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