First came the Friday rehearsal.
In a gymnasium full of noisy cellists, Julia warmed up for the rehearsal of the strings festival. She was disappointed not to see anyone from her school among the cellos although last year, she was the only cellist from her middle school to participate. There were probably a gaggle of violinists but they warmed up in the cafeteria before coming into the gym. The mellow tones of a couple hundred cellos plus a few dozen basses created a din.I was my usual tense self for these kinds of gatherings. I wait for behavior. I wait for interruption or speaking where no speaking is called for. I wait for some grownup to tell Julia she cannot use the music. One of the rules of the festival is that kids memorize what they play but early on that was impossible for Julia and teachers waived the requirement. I waited, sitting as close as I could to her. Two years ago, her aide sat with her, last year, her teacher made sure that a sympathetic student was next to her. This year, she sat alone and I crossed as many extremities as I could muster, wanting and willing this to be a positive experience for her.
Snow-rain-sleet stopped and the roads are looking better after the morning rush. My day looks clear and it takes no time to fill it up with the gym, cooking, maybe baking, the wash, reading, and finally sending out a resume for what appears to be a ‘perfect’ job. Julia is in school late today so she can go to the Harry Potter club. The after school club rules require that kids first go to a homework club right after school and so she will come home without her usual math sheet. Reading and cello practice will be all that is on her agenda for the evening. She will rush through both so she can get back to her sewing. Julia is still hand sewing and using felt most of the time. I am determined to give her a good sewing machine lesson during the upcoming long weekend. She still does not think in terms of what the machine can do for her. I don’t want to stop her hand sewing but a quick, strong seem is a lovely thing! And it stays together. I question if she should learn pattern following right now or whether coming up with her own should just continue. I am thinking of sewing along side of her, using a pattern. Will she notice?
There are all sorts of ‘new year’ experiences and feelings that come and go, some leaving impressions, some not even marked. Anniversaries with their days before and afterglows can be awful and terrifying and tender and lovely. Today is my birthday and this year it is marked with visits from two of my favorite people, one of whom braved a winter storm-not really-and a gathering tonight. It is, will be the most festive birthday I have had in a long time. It is the first time I have asked for festivities in a long time.
And then to comment on this picture. My favorite photo of the last year. Taken at the Museo Egizio de Torino, Egyptian Museum of Turin. These two little vessels found in some ancient tomb. Most of that wonderful museum is serious and impressive, the best Egyptian tomb collection that I have ever seen, possibly in the world. But when I set eyes on these two little vessels, found in some noble tomb, I laughed out loud. Such silliness. Such idiosyncrasy. Such character. So, so, so different from everything else! Were these done by a master burial potter? Or his 9 year old off spring? Did they really belong in the tomb or were they snuck in to delight the maker? Or were they lovingly placed by a kind uncle? Or were there hundreds and hundreds of this style vessel once made and then lost because of accident or intentional destruction? Perhaps the answers could be easily found. Perhaps not. If I could have a little vessel like one of these, it would delight me, possibly for the rest of my life. But for now, even without any answers, I come back to the picture over and over merely to feel the delight and smile.
This week, that between Christmas and the changing of calendars, is time this year for a re-set, time to put amendments into practice, time to change or dedicate self to the same. Time to practice resolutions while being released from much of the daily grind. Julia and I could stay inside for days at a time without missing a single appointment. Although there have been years when we have travelled the week, and so many Facebook friends are posting pictures of just that, we lie fallow in our snug house, slowly cleaning up from a week of a houseful of young women, slowly getting Julia back on the schedule of school work that keeps her regulated during our everyday. We don’t even expect our biweekly dinner guests tonight due to flu at their house. We slip outdoors for errands—pick up meds, deliver the letter canceling old insurance, check out library books, CDs and DVDs, and buy bananas and salad greens—and return to tea, a fire and poppyseed rolls. I have such gratitude for the simplicity of these few days.
Quiet holidays. Tonight, Julia and I are home. We’ve been in all day. No rushing around. No therapy. No school. And especially, no shopping. As is my preference, I’ve done as much my gift buying online. I am no fan of the frenzied holiday stampede although I admit the need to examine with eyes and finger some potential purchases.
I am stopping at my French cafe on the way to a Mindful Circle workshop. I have time to eat my favorite pain aux raison and sip a cafe au lait. As expected the woman behind greets me like an old friend and seems to remember that the last time I came in I had to settle for another pastry. I practice my few French phrases and indeed she corrects my pronunciation. The very center of my pastry is still warm and the baker is still bringing out the fruits of the morning’s labor.
Chasing Joy 