Ann’s River Stones
Life flushes his nose, cheeks, with flaming warmth when he slips back
inside, to rub his hands by the fire. Words, fragments of stories,
tumble out of him, and I nod, trying to etch him in my mind like this
(do all mothers do this? Memorize moments?) For some reason, I don’t
trust ink and paper, computerized sensors of cameras. I carve it down
in synapses and neurons— in heart fibers—before he, who he is now,
is gone, mellow voice turned deep, untried hands grown long and deeply
lined, trenched with days.
I do it too, constantly. Sunday, while stealing a rare nap with the baby (toddler, but shh), rain beating down, book abandoned on the pillow: I could not stop looking at her, breathing her in. Flushed cheeks, purple shadows beneath the blurred black lashes, her face now Jane’s, now Rose’s, now a flash of Scott. Now that picture of me when I was her age, something about the o of her mouth. The curl peeking out behind one ear, the weight of her head on my arm, the gentle sigh of her breath. How many more times will I get to live that moment? Just like Ann, I try to fix these moments in my mind, try to memorize each detail. But I never can call them back fully, not unless I’ve written them down. That’s why I blog, I guess.
Her meditation on the fleetingness of these delicious days is some of the most beautiful writing I’ve seen on the internet, ever.
Meredith says:
Ooh, I loved this one too, and yours, honey, incredible! You have to write them down, it’s the only way 🙂
On January 8, 2008 at 4:40 pm
Beck says:
Her post and yours were just unbearably moving….
On January 8, 2008 at 4:44 pm
patience says:
Thank you for drawing this post from the ocean. Ann does indeed write so beautifully. Her posts seem like rain-covered windows to me, reflecting secrets and shadows and strange ephemeral things. Your writing is different, and yet equally beautiful, with its elegant strings of simple words – it’s like the old grooved frames around the window, steady, deep, encapsulating a view.
On January 8, 2008 at 5:38 pm
~doriann says:
We were at Uncle Frankie’s on Christmas Eve and he should us a package he received from Aunt Carol’s family recently. There were several photos of you & Dale as toddlers???? It’s cool how your girls look like you at that age. There was even some of your mom around 4-8???? Too cute!!!
On January 8, 2008 at 6:36 pm
Activities Coordinator says:
We’re studying WWI, so my eleven-year-old Butterfly and I are reading (well, rereading) Rilla of Ingleside together at night. Nine-year-old Tiger came and crawled into bed with us to listen. I thought about this post, snuggled them close and smiled.
On January 8, 2008 at 8:39 pm
Christine says:
I do memorize moments like this, with my precious 3 and 5 year olds. Sometimes, quietly, so as not to disturb the flow, my husband and I will look at each other and say “Right now. This is a moment to remember forever.” And we do. May these moments become muscle and ‘heart fiber’ memories to sustain us all when these precious babes are out on their own. Thank you for this blog and the collection you have so beautifully put together.
On January 9, 2008 at 8:07 am