Monday morning. Sitting at my desk in a large office. As others go about their work, I pay attention to the way the sun is peaking through the blinds. If I lean my head to the right, it is suddenly bright and piercing. If I lean my head to the left, it is warm and muted—yet another reminder that position and perspective change everything.
I try to impress this upon my children, the idea that the way we think about things and view things matters, but if my comments, explanations, and suggestions have had any effect on them, I haven’t been able to notice it. Yet.
Raising children is strange. You spend so much time with them, but mostly in one place (your home), surrounded by the same people (your family), so for the most part, you only see them from one angle. Who and what they are in other locations surrounded by other people, you don’t know.
Last week, a guest came to my house, an adult who has the same passion for and knowledge about soccer as my son. As soon as he mentioned the sport and let on that he was interested in it, my son become an entirely different person. He went from being slightly withdrawn and irritated to being passionate and assertive. His tone changed from being curt closed off to being polite and inquisitive.
It was fascinating to watch, and I consider myself very fortunate to have been there at that moment to see a side of my son that I had only heard of secondhand, through teachers’ comments and the things that his friends’ parents have told me.
(1)
the mountains
they're at it again
their heads in the clouds
(2)
all in a line
the trees here have grown
twisted and crooked
(3)
a red snow shovel
waiting by the door
for what never was
(4)
without a word
my daughter tells me
go away
(5)
folding laundry
before the sun rises
the day begins
(6)
the way they connect
a thousand tiny ripples
on the river’s surface
(7)
As always, thank you for reading.
