I’m sitting here trying to figure out what to write about as my mind swirls with sweet memories of the people we’re travelling to see today. Part of the problem is that so many of their names start with J so I’m finding my fool proof system for keeping anonymous those I love foiled. The other part is that so many of my memories are comprised more of feelings, responses and emotions than actions.
Walking down a country road picking wild flowers to go see Sweet Lady J’s chestnut horse or chasing her golden retriever through the meadows. Watching her throw pots and create Father Christmas; an amazing, huge pot with a lovely face always smiling out at exactly my height.
Chasing and playing and dreaming with Brother J until way past both of our bedtimes. Everything from board games to elaborately constructed journeys into some other world created by nothing but our imaginations and wonder. Him being four years older and having such unending patience with me as I lured him away from the grownups talk back into some previously imagined escapade.
Listening to Uncle J tell the most amazing stories. Stories that brought so much more color and encouragement to dream up fairytales of my own. Giving me permission to create an extraordinary life; to connect the dots between my imagination and the “real” world. Almost demanding that I color outside the lines and carve my own path through the daily convention.
It’s so easy for me to slip back into those feelings of being so completely safe that I could do anything. Living room plays. Stories of my own. Dreams of meatball downpours and skipping stones across elven rivers.
And Brother J is now a father and I a mother. I hope that we create the same kind of safe and gorgeous world for our children to grow up in. I hope that regardless of the number of siblings our children have, that they can find the trust and love that we found in this extended family. I hope they can cultivate the same vibrancy of growth that we were gifted.
Weaving an unbreakable foundation for a future of brilliance and beauty.
Showing posts with label fairytales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fairytales. Show all posts
6/20/09
3/16/09
Speech Writer
I am a master mental speech writer. I almost always have some sort of speech rattling around my head. There are the more predictable speeches. The if one more person butts in front of me in the grocery store I’ll… and the when I ask you to do something it’s not just because I like the sound of my voice speeches. There are the here’s how much I love you and the it’s not you, it’s me speeches. I think we’ve probably all had at least snippets of these form in our heads from time to time.
Then there are the less commonplace speeches. Like the I know I’m losing my best friend and it’s ok, you can go now speech. Or the I still love you after all this time speech. And of course, the don’t you get it speech that can be used on lovers moving farther away, lovers moving too close, kids who don’t understand why they can’t play in the street or friends making self-destructive choices.
But more recently for me, all the speeches in my head have had to do with affairs of the heart. And they’ve mostly been for my own edification, not because I actually plan on delivering them to their intended audience. I’m not quite that brave I suppose. Not yet at least.
The why can’t you see me speeches and the I’m tired of waiting for you to engage speeches. The how can you possibly still love me speeches and the I don’t know why I still love you, but I do speeches. The can we just run away and say screw it to the rest of the world speeches and the loving you is like coming home speeches.
My mind reels with fairytale scenes. My dignified and yet passionate delivery of one of these speeches that moves its audience not only to tears, but most importantly, to action. They are so moved that they cannot help but come and set everything right. But there is no fairytale in my life right now. My feet are firmly planted on the ground and I’m trying to shoo my need for a fairy tale ending under the carpet.
Then there are the less commonplace speeches. Like the I know I’m losing my best friend and it’s ok, you can go now speech. Or the I still love you after all this time speech. And of course, the don’t you get it speech that can be used on lovers moving farther away, lovers moving too close, kids who don’t understand why they can’t play in the street or friends making self-destructive choices.
But more recently for me, all the speeches in my head have had to do with affairs of the heart. And they’ve mostly been for my own edification, not because I actually plan on delivering them to their intended audience. I’m not quite that brave I suppose. Not yet at least.
The why can’t you see me speeches and the I’m tired of waiting for you to engage speeches. The how can you possibly still love me speeches and the I don’t know why I still love you, but I do speeches. The can we just run away and say screw it to the rest of the world speeches and the loving you is like coming home speeches.
My mind reels with fairytale scenes. My dignified and yet passionate delivery of one of these speeches that moves its audience not only to tears, but most importantly, to action. They are so moved that they cannot help but come and set everything right. But there is no fairytale in my life right now. My feet are firmly planted on the ground and I’m trying to shoo my need for a fairy tale ending under the carpet.
1/5/09
Afflicted with Consumption
Have you ever been so totally consumed by a story, or a book, or a movie that you lose all objectivity? I can get like that. I know you’re not surprised.
My dad handed me The Hobbit when I was about 11 years old. It took me a while to get through, but I did it and I was hooked. Then, with great pleasure, he handed me his leather-bound, collector’s edition of The Lord of the Rings. It took me even longer to get through. I’m not sure I got it. And it took me even longer to pick back up, more than 10 years as a matter of fact. But when I did, it was consuming. I didn’t want to put it down. In fact I read all three books several times over the course of a year. The magic and sheer and undying hope had me utterly hooked.
Since my son is old enough to really start getting into superheroes, I’m sort of the same way. I just get all attached to the characters like they belong to me. The Boy and I had a routine for a while with The X-Men that we would watch all the episodes together, since they were new to both of us.
I was more than mildly afflicted by the Harry Potter series.
Then my mom turned me on to the Twilight series. And I’m fully entrenched, in the absolute devotion and love inherent in the characters and story. Well, and there’s Edward.
I was 10 when the movie Labyrinth came out. I vividly remember coming home from the theater and lying on my trampoline staring up at the sky, fervently wishing that the Goblin King would come and take me away. I still find myself wishing that occasionally.
I’ve always been attracted, and then consumed, by fairytales and magic of all sorts. Almost looking to it as a philosophy on life. That if I believed hard enough, those fairytales would come true. But at the same time refusing to be the damsel in distress. So what do you do when you want the knight in shining armor to save you, but you’re busy slaying the dragon?
My dad handed me The Hobbit when I was about 11 years old. It took me a while to get through, but I did it and I was hooked. Then, with great pleasure, he handed me his leather-bound, collector’s edition of The Lord of the Rings. It took me even longer to get through. I’m not sure I got it. And it took me even longer to pick back up, more than 10 years as a matter of fact. But when I did, it was consuming. I didn’t want to put it down. In fact I read all three books several times over the course of a year. The magic and sheer and undying hope had me utterly hooked.
Since my son is old enough to really start getting into superheroes, I’m sort of the same way. I just get all attached to the characters like they belong to me. The Boy and I had a routine for a while with The X-Men that we would watch all the episodes together, since they were new to both of us.
I was more than mildly afflicted by the Harry Potter series.
Then my mom turned me on to the Twilight series. And I’m fully entrenched, in the absolute devotion and love inherent in the characters and story. Well, and there’s Edward.
I was 10 when the movie Labyrinth came out. I vividly remember coming home from the theater and lying on my trampoline staring up at the sky, fervently wishing that the Goblin King would come and take me away. I still find myself wishing that occasionally.
I’ve always been attracted, and then consumed, by fairytales and magic of all sorts. Almost looking to it as a philosophy on life. That if I believed hard enough, those fairytales would come true. But at the same time refusing to be the damsel in distress. So what do you do when you want the knight in shining armor to save you, but you’re busy slaying the dragon?