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Today was the first day back from two weeks of Spring break.
Years ago I read and reread Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift from the Sea. In this little book she writes about the stages of life, comparing them to different sea shells she collects at the beach. She reflects that she believes people need to take two full weeks of vacation. She uses the first week to unwind and the second week to rekindle, and recover creativity and life.
I think this was the first time in a very, very long time that I have taken two full weeks off. It seems as though my normal pattern is to try to cram as many activities and trips and events into our short breaks as possible. It sometimes feels like the return to work is the recuperation from the vacation. Even the summers seems to get too jam packed. This break was different and I really enjoyed it. We actually slid into a slump of extreme laziness, Bill and I got sucked into a new old TV series on Netflix. I think we watched four full episodes on Saturday night. That is anew screen time record for us. I got to visit with friends. I got to watch the kids at gymnastics and swimming. Almost comatose.
These next two months are Mary's last two months of half-day kindergarten. It feels like the end of early childhood. She is swimming up a storm (the coach moved her into Calvin's session last week) , on a gymnastics pre-team (she made me take her to the State Girls Gymnastics meet on Sunday) , and playing piano very nicely. Suddenly she can read. She is not a baby anymore. Her time alone in the morning is precious. This is when she is train-of-thought in her room, making magic with fairies and legos and silly bands and little shells she found at the beach. After school she and Calvin play together and he would never mix legos with fairies. So, my goal the next two months is to cherish her. Make her macaroni and cheese for lunch everyday if she wants it. Take her to see Rosie, her favorite check-out-lady at the Byerly's grocery store. Let her stay in her jammies until 11:55.
I don't know what the shell is that Anne Morrow Lindbergh would compare to finishing kindergarten, but I imagine it would be a very tiny precious one that only a little six year old would find and ask you to keep for her in your pocket.
Here's to beaches and home and time to just be, and here's to Mary, may you always mix fairies and silly bands and legos and precious little shells.
i feel very weepy when i read this post sara! I can not believe how both calvin and mary have grown! i think back to mary 2 in her high chair and playing find the bunny game with her, listening to her squeals of delight. I miss them both very much, I know it is one of the things that makes me sad about our military lifestyle, all the things we miss out on due to not getting leave to go home and visit more, the little sacrifices begin to add up sometimes. I hope you will hug and kiss mary for me. I think you and bill are the most amazing parents and i know that i hope to be as kind and patient and wise of a parent as you, working through my own mistakes and errors with grace and faith and love. We miss you guys very much!
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