I think you’re supposed to be awake in order to achieve enlightenment.
It’s embarrassing to admit that even the lure of being privy to The Book of Secrets is not enough to keep me conscious. Every time I try to read a bit of Deepak’s sage wisdom, I get about two paragraphs in and promptly fall asleep.
I think the Bohemian found me last night with the book laid across my chest, my eyes shut and my mouth hanging open – not exactly the illuminated state I was seeking.
I’m beginning to wonder what it means if someone offers up a book filled with secrets to the key of life and I simply cannot read it without drifting into dreamland.
I thought I wanted the juiciest secrets divulged. Maybe I’m just not ready.
Jeb wakes before the sun and emerges from his bedroom clutching the latest Scholastic book order catalogue. He wants to sit together and peruse his top picks.
Ever-supportive of nurturing the love of reading, I acquiesce and surrender my writing hour to a different kind of literary exercise. Flipping past Amelia Bedelia and Captain Underpants, my son goes straight to the featured Lego section. I wish that I could craft this post to reflect my pride in his earnest bookwormishness. But alas, that would be misleading.
In reality, his aim was in another vein. His index finger pointing to the highlighted Lego DS video game, available for only $20.
Bypassing nearly all things book, my morning writing was being thwarted by an electronic game and the ensuing push and pull of “please, mom, please, this is the only thing I want to buy.”
Ugh.
No poetry to post this morning or any kind of inspired perspective. The Scholastic book order form has been temporarily shelved, though I’m not budging on my refusal to purchase video games through the school’s book catalogue.
Come on, Scholastic! Give a mom a break.
Well, I’m laughing, actually. I guess they gave me a post. Even if it is completely mundane.
Moments between bagging three month’s worth of recycling and hauling it to the transfer station. Time after I pulled out boxes and steamed-cleaned floors, trying to trace the scent of a dead animal in the closet (never found it).
There were windows with Radiohead, alone in the car. Walking out of the art supply store with a fresh journal. Opening the post office box to find a check. Spraying countertops clean with the scent of lavender. Pouring water into a new filtered pitcher. Making popcorn with melted butter and Hawaiian salt.
In the late afternoon, Jeb and I pick 80 Ti leaves so he can make his Hawaiian skirt for the school graduation ceremony.
“We need more! They’re going to be able to see through it!”
By day’s end, I’m exhausted but organized. Anticipating Monday but dedicated to the moment. We take an evening stroll. We walk slowly and choose the long way.
Sometimes he’ll hold my hand. Sometimes he’ll practice cartwheels on the grass. Sometimes he’ll hang on me like a jungle gym and drive me nuts. I have to remind him that’s he’s big now, three-fourths my size.
Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
On the way back home he gets ahead of me. It’s ok now, these days, for him to be a bit on his own. He beats me to the house. I arrive at the front door as he opens it from inside, a red ginger flower outstretched in his hand. It’s the third flower he’s picked for me today. I put it in an old glass honey jar.
For the Archives 