So much has happened, and yet, nothing is different.Â I’m still sitting in my pajamas, typing as the kids watch “Dinosaur Train” and munch bananas. Just like usual.Â I’m making this blog post as an effort to remind myself of all that swirls around me, all I don’t have time to process yet. Consider it a diary entry. Feel free to disregard.
We’ve been on the road for 2 weeks now.Â Drove from Greenville to a strange random Holiday Inn somewhere along 85, because a tree jumped in front of our car in the dark and rainstormy night, and sent us swerving down the road, tires in the air (to clarify, we didn’t actually wreck, just spent a half mile careening and titlting on the wet road). No fooling. Thank the heavens for sending us an empty highway (if those heavens were determined to send us a tree).Â And so it was we spent a night in a hotel, eating pizza and watching cartoons and hugging each other.
Then Yom Kippur in Baltimore.Â Fasting and thinking and arguing (as family does) and finally, eating.
Then a night in DC, in a place I’d like to live, with my sister.Â Blankets on the floor.Â Burgers on the stoop. Took the boys to museums and ate hot dogs and rode trains and wandered and felt very free.
Then a visit with an old, old, old (like 3 decades of ago) friend who has moved back to Baltimore.Â A visitÂ Â that brought up questions aboutÂ youth, the importance of maintaining old ties, shared history, common language, etc.Â Lots to chew on.Â Made me want to move home. Really.
Then a trip to Ithaca, for another old friend (a wedding, and an astounding one, on a lake, in a garden, full of food and music and wine. SurelyÂ the beginning of what will be an unusual and exciting life).
But also a trip to Ithaca, to visit with family.Â To laugh and yell over old myths, old lies, old truths, old hurts. And also to share my kids, make introductions.Â Also to encounter new ideas. This part of the family is ART. This part of the family is theory. This part of the family challenges me.Â I need to think about all of this– about (danger of) beauty, (lack of) function, order, and the line between art and life, public and private.
From there back to Baltimore, for power tools, and a sukkah.
Then to DC again, this time to speak with some amazing people who work with kids. NOT theory, practice. Art as function, art as application. Art as life-giving.
After that, a silly surprise.Â Not sure I ever expected the NYTimes, but I know I didn’t expect it like this!
And today, back in Catonsville, with the kids, who are now sick. And how that pulls everything into perspective.Â So… this morning… all else melts away… into chicken soup and OJ and Motrin and hugs and kisses and lots of TV.Â And that’s all there is. All there is…
Until tomorrow, when I’ll be in NY, reading poems and stories and talking and walking, and wishing…
…that I was home with the sick kids.