High School Siblings

Last week, one of Andrew's teachers shared an observation with me.

Madeline and Andrew are two years apart, she is a junior and he is a freshman at the same high school. The teacher told me when she was in high school and her sisters were at the same school, she avoided them and cringed when she saw them in the hallway at school.

The teacher went on to explain that when Madeline was one of her students as a freshman in Honors English, and as a sophomore in American Studies, she noticed how Madeline always spoke very highly of her family and her brothers. When she learned that Andrew would be in her freshman Honors English course this year, she was curious to see how he would speak of his sister and how they would interact with each other in high school.

Now that she sees first hand the relationship between Madeline and Andrew, the teacher wanted me to know she "is to the point of being jealous" and wishes she and her siblings had a similar relationship. She admires how supportive they are of each other, and whenever she has seen them interact together, the genuine relationship they share is touching.

Of course, they have their disagreements, although I admit, there have been only a few of them. I am just proud of the mutual respect they have for each other.

Truth

Things are seldom what they seem, skim milk masquerades as cream.

-W. S. Gilbert

Watching the Fish

I am not exactly sure where this photograph was taken, but based on the date, I think I was around four years old. When I looked at the photograph, I had vivid memories of my parents taking my sister and I fishing.

I remembered my parents talking about how my mom would bait the hook, and my dad would take the fish off the hook, but neither was willing to do the other task.

I had a memory of a wood dock and I was lying on my tummy, peering into the clear water, watching the fish swim amongst the green, wavy weeds.

And then a different memory came to me, I was alone on a dock and I wanted so badly to bait my own hook. I tipped the worm container, and a worm fell out onto the dock. I remember holding the hook and thinking how proud my parents would be of me, if I baited the hook and caught a fish on my own.

I took the hook, and tried without actually touching the worm, to stab the worm and bait the hook. I couldn't do it. I remember feeling torn between wanting to bait the hook, and surprise my parents, and not wanting to hurt the worm.

I scooped the worm back into the container. I couldn't bear to hurt it.

Looking back, it only makes sense that I would rather watch the fish swimming peacefully in the lake.

Fate

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

~Steve Jobs

Ode to Little Teddy

When I was sorting through my box of memories, I came across the following poem I wrote when I was maybe ten years old. It made me smile.

The Teddy Bear

Sitting here waiting for my owner,
Where could she be?
As soon as she leaves in the morning,
I realize how much I miss her.

I really love her,
Even though she chews on my ears.
She's a good owner,
Except one time she pulled my fur.

At night when she cuddles me,
I feel so close.
One time I fell out of bed,
She giggled.
Then she picked me up,
and brushed my fur.

I lost an eye once because of her,
Her mom threw me in the dryer.
They said I needed to be washed,
But my little owner said I was fine.

I spun round and round,
Well my owner cried.
Then I popped out,
Hair in my glass eyes.
Then she hugged me.

Would She Be Happy?

I spent a little while today looking through a box of items I saved from my youth. Almost everything in the box was from when I was younger than twenty years old.

Amongst many diaries, I found one I wrote when I was ten years old. I found my first driver’s license. There were stacks of letters I wrote to people in my life, and never sent. I touched countless journals of poetry I wrote in my youth. I scanned over love letters from people I haven’t thought of in years. I looked through several sketch books with drawings. I found a hall pass from my favorite high school teacher. I read papers I wrote about life, death and dying, and fairy tales.

I noticed how my handwriting has changed over the years, yet I could still see some similarities to my handwriting of today. I noticed the topics I wrote about then, are topics I am still trying to figure out. In the drawings, I could recognize my style, although I like to think it is a bit more refined. In the letters, I could see my compassion and caring of other people. In the poetry, as I read the first line, the words I wrote came back to me and I could recite the poem to the end.

I could see myself as the young girl, but I started to wonder. Did the young girl who packed away the items in the box, see me when she thought of herself as a woman? Would she be happy if she saw who she became?

I wish I could ask her.

Kitten Mittens

I love mittens!

What makes me even happier are mittens with kittens on them. How can you not smile when you look at them?

I am sure the cold winter months will be much brighter when I look at the palms of my hands and Kitten Mitten is smiling at me. We will have many great adventures together!