Saturday, July 24, 2010

Everything else is replaceable...






My son Weston has said some funny things.
He's so perceptive and strangely wise for his tender six years.
I'm told that while on vacation with cousin Heidi he said, "Heidi, I think I'm winning [at this card game]" to which Heidi responded, "no, actually Weston, you're losing." Then Weston said, "Don't take a man's pride from him, Heidi; he needs it." --Ha! Can you believe it?
When we returned to Rosebud from Oregon, our good friends the Halterman's had moved to St. Albert. Weston and Donovan had gotten into a good habit of inviting the Halterman boys over, and now their playmates were gone.
Weston went alone to the dirt piles and returned about 25 minutes later. After a swift cup of juice I heard a sigh from the kitchen table and sat down to gaze at my ruddy faced son. "Mom... It's like everything's changing. The Halterman's are gone, the dirt piles are different, [someone had come to remove one of the piles], and it just feels like... I know this sounds strange, but it feels like someone else is going to have to move," he said, and took another thoughtful drink. I stared at my son. He sounded so profound, so prophetic. He was trying to make his peace with change and resettle into who he is at home after being in another place. I, too, found myself struggling to place where I was when I woke up the next several mornings after Oregon. At Eagle Crest I slept in three different beds and back at mom and dad's I was in a fourth. Waking up in Rosebud was strange too because Dave and I have switched sides of the bed, and now the window is in a new place for early morning reference. Wierd.
It's been easy for the boys and I to slip into summer time schedule with late nights and lazy mornings, even some lazy afternoons. This doesn't feel right to my soul because of all the beautiful weather and light; it seems like we should be outside more. But it feels right to my body and will because we just sort of putter about the house -getting reacquainted and don't get out much. There's been a renewed desire to sort and clean and organize, but because the job is endless the spurts of determination are short and end up in more clutter until they are finished. This has especially been hard on Dave. Now that the Passion Play is over he has returned from the land of freedom and independence to the den of lion cubs and clutter. I too have been so hungry to work on my creative projects that we're almost competing for time to be alone on the computer. Right now, for instance, I can hear the energy from my boys escalating beyond Daddy's calm pleas and I will have to sign off soon.
I was going to share more Weston quotes and round them out with some tie-in when I got to the end.
I just toss out a few more and get off.
Weston the teenager: "Oh please, mom, don't be so enthusiastic."
"I bet now is the time Dan is writing Gallavants, now he is in his pride."
Responding to me about bringing something to his plate instead of putting it in his grimy outstretched hand: "the hand, Mom; the hand."
With Weston at the dirt piles the next day after he found two bones [his collection is now at six on our kitchen window sill (unsanitary as that may be.)] Mom: "Weston, your turning into a veritable archeologist!" Weston: "Mom, don't you mean paleontologist?" [Smarty Pants.]
The other day we had a Tornado Watch (of all things) and had to go to our neighbors basement to sit it out. Poor Weston is deathly afraid of tornados and after I had said, "Gather Brown Bear, a hoodie, and put on your shoes," the next thing I saw was poor Weston coming out of his bedroom, his arms LOADED with clothes and toys and his eyes full of dread and sadness. "I can't carry everything in time; I don't think I can make it!" "Oh Weston," I said, "don't take anything except what I said. You are the important thing; everything else is replaceable."
Sigh.
Well that really puts my anxiety in perspective right now.
I think I tend to be like Weston and grab onto all I can for fear of losing it.
If I'm not careful, I'll miss the whole point -- what is right in front of me.
Like my kids who keep me from my ambition and creativity.
And my husband who can't live with the clutter.

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