Writing and knowing that someone bears witness to my attempts to make sense of this experience is a huge gift. (Thank you). I admit to feeling a kind of pious, selfless pleasure, this morning, knowing I was giving Nancy that gift. And, as always when I get a little above my station the universe, in the form of Nancy’s story, is quick to turn my thinking on its head.
The kids in Joshua’s grade had to write a reflective essay this week. They were asked to select a poem or song which reflected something important to them. I got this note from Joshua’s (and my) friend (and teacher to us both) about a different boy in the grade.
Last week my surviving son, Chris, handed me a piece of paper with the following essay printed on it. I’m both heartbroken and proud of what he had to say:
I woke up to the news that Stephen Hawking has died. The world seems a little less bright, a little less clever this morning.
I confess, my desire to protect the ladybird came less from utility and more from simple joy. I have been a devoted ladybird lover since childhood. Instead of tugging out the offending shoot I found myself reliving my first ladybird memory.
For the last few weeks I’ve been alternately avoiding the garden and clearing out the last of the summer crops.