June 24th, 2005
At the age of eight years old while driving in the car my dad would often say to my sister and I in a stern voice, “Don’t laugh”, which had the immediate and desired result of sending us into that face scruntching, “trying-to-hold-it-in-but-being-unsuccessful” look, followed by peals of giggling. “I mean it, don’t laugh.” We would work intensely at it for several seconds at least. (The
don’t laugh trick was seconded only by my father’s other favourite “don’t think of a pink elephant.”) This photo reminded me of that about to burst feeling, something I hadn’t though about in years.
As I enter into my 35th year on this planet I stop to think about the things I am grateful for, the things that are making me grow, the things that are a life…
a new circle of women friends all open to experiencing and sharing the hard bits, a husband whose face lights up when I walk in the room (i will never tire of that), leather bound journals from italy that I like to smell when I write in them, dragon flies, humming birds, a new found ability to cry with friends, the good books of the year, Jim Harrison, A movable feast, William Carlos Williams, learning to speak my truth with people, finding my voice more, whole milk vanilla ice cream, toast with honey, soft boiled eggs, tea, tea, tea, black licorice, music by Gillian Welch, the B-Good Tanya’s, Christian Keifer, Jeff Pitcher, Spinoza, my new agent Faith, Natalie Goldberg, Maira Kahlman, a quiet wedding in the fog, doing my best and understanding it is enough, guerilla art, animal houses, holes in trees, late night phone calls, losing my confidence, finding it again, change, missing my mom and allowing myself to grieve, chewy sweet tarts, two grey fuzzy cats one fat one thin, friday night pizzas, zip.ca, wine that makes you close your eyes and smile, new york wanderings, california adventures, courage, finding my center in the midst of chaos, trust, finding grace (even when I think it isn’t there), watching children, sharing stories, experiencing vulnerability, sitting with discomfort, riding my bike, cloth grocery bags, black ink pens, morning collages, picking my first lemon, knowing less than I did a few years ago, but feeling more.
I didn’t find any new answers, just a few more questions that I hadn’t thought of.