| Yes, we are back from taking our son to college for the first time, back from a week basking in the glory of being waterside in Maine, back from paper plates full of the tenderest lobsters, back from rocky coasts disappearing into Vermont hills, back to a house turned upside down with one child gone and another moving upstairs leaving a swath of destruction in her wake! We really thought we would feel so unbearably sad when we dropped him off, but the reality was quite different. When we finally, finally arrived (after 900 miles or so), the boy was so excited, so happy, so READY, that we could do nothing but laugh, share his excitement, hug him and skedaddle. Now we are home and it still feels ok....so far. I am sure that his absence will make itself a nice little hole in our hearts, but for now, he is so delighted with his new found home, that it just feels right. Maybe I have figured one thing out--here it is: our bond with this boy has not been severed by his absence. In fact, perhaps we're even more aware of it now that it feels so precious. Anyway, we are doing fine so far. Oh, and I wanted to recap a part of our trip home because it was just the perfect ending of a glorious week. we spent our last night on the road at the house of a dear friend in Rochester, NY. Now I was born in Rochester because my father was the headmaster of a little co-ed private school there called Harley School. This was his first headmastership, and I was just a little thing when we lived there and I have little memory of the place (dad was there from 1959-1963). Anyway, our host told us that Harley School was about a minute down the road, so in the morning, Chip and I walked into the school (which was not yet in session), and asked whether they had pictures of old headmasters on the wall somewhere. The woman said that they certainly did, and then she asked me why I wanted to know. We told her about dad and how much my parents had loved Harley, that I had never been here, and how much we just wanted to see his picture and look around a little. Well, people came out of the woodwork to welcome us, give us a tour, meet the headmaster, and shower us with t-shirts and sweatshirts and bags with Harley emblazoned all over them! This was one of the sweetest 45 minutes I have ever spent. There is just something about a school....and perhaps something about an old headmaster too..... lovely all around. Well, I'm feeling a little sad that summer is drawing to a close, I am always struck by how much I love the subtle change in the light and the air and the smell as autumn comes. There is something exciting about this time--I will miss football games, but I will revel in Will's new love for all things Maine, and I'll know that he is experiencing a crisp, gorgeous, full-throttle Maine fall.....lucky boy! Now we can focus on the other kid, even though she is hoping that we won't! Too bad honey, here we come, and the third floor won't stop us! Here are a couple of poems that capture something of my favorite season. enjoy! FALL (Edward Hirsch) | ||
Fall, falling, fallen. That's the way the season
Changes its tense in the long-haired maples
That dot the road; the veiny hand-shaped leaves
Redden on their branches (in a fiery competition
With the final remaining cardinals) and then
Begin to sidle and float through the air, at last
Settling into colorful layers carpeting the ground.
At twilight the light, too, is layered in the trees
In a season of odd, dusky congruences‐a scarlet tanager
And the odor of burning leaves, a golden retriever
Loping down the center of a wide street and the sun
Setting behind smoke-filled trees in the distance,
A gap opening up in the treetops and a bruised cloud
Blamelessly filling the space with purples. Everything
Changes and moves in the split second between summer's
Sprawling past and winter's hard revision, one moment
Pulling out of the station according to schedule,
Another moment arriving on the next platform. It
Happens almost like clockwork: the leaves drift away
From their branches and gather slowly at our feet,
Sliding over our ankles, and the season begins moving
Around us even as its colorful weather moves us,
Even as it pulls us into its dusty, twilit pockets.
And every year there is a brief, startling moment
When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and
Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless
Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:
It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;
It is the changing light of fall falling on us. | ||
AT BLACKWATER POND (Mary Oliver)
At. Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled
after a night of rain.
I dip my cupped hands. I drink
a long time. It tastes
like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold
into my body, waking the bones. I hear them
deep inside me, whispering
oh what is that beautiful thing
that just happened?
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