In the morning, it now being Saturday, we ate the spread laid out for us and packed up to drive about 3.5hours to Middlebury, Vt to see Will (my son) play lacrosse against the Midd panthers (my old team). As usual, Brent and I laugh at the same things, are appalled by the same politics, and just generally read each other's mind. So, after sharing info about our kids, we settled down to compare new sci fi and fantasy novels we are reading and to start listening to another fabulous Dresden-like book called "Hounded". There is no one else with whom I feel quite so free to share my desire to become a Firefly crew member, taste some spice, or experience a thread fall from dragon back. Ok, can't help it, and what is wrong with all of you naysayers, anyway? Try a new world on for size once in awhile, really.
So, it started snowing at about Okemo, but when we drove into the town of Middlebury, the sun came out over the mountains and it was glorious (even though it was 30 degrees and they had to plow the snow off the turf). We walked around the lovely town, missed the chili at the chili festival (as I did the previous year), and watched Will's team succumb to a strong Midd team (as I did last year). But we got to see him at the crazy parents' tailgate party afterwards, and while I'm not so sure about the facial hair, he is a sweetheart, and it is a pleasure to be with him and to meet his friends and their parents. Then, we turned around and drove back to Easthampton.
When we arrived, the Melchers had made another incredible dinner spread, and we laughed and drank and ate ourselves silly. As Sunday rolled around, we lounged in the sun having coffee, it now being about 55 degrees, and then we were off to met our old friends, the Pattersons, for brunch before Will's team took on the Amherst Lord Jeffs (really?). This time, the Bates Bobcats were playing well, and stayed with the best team in the NESCAC losing 9-11 -- a very respectable game this time. Brent and I had to leave at half time for me to catch my plane back home at 6pm, but the weekend was a grand success. Here's Will with his cousins
You know, there is nothing more wonderful than being with friends and family who all know and love this boy and hope for his success. I felt a little overwhelmed by the whole thing. There we all were in the stands, though we hail from many parts of the country and have different school allegiances, cheering and hollering and hoping that Will and his team played well (even those friends from Amherst!). I think I'm becoming a sentimental old fool, but the whole thing made me weepy. I feel so lucky for all of it--for health enough to travel and run around cheering like an idiot, for a sister who makes my heart happy, for inlaws who have become best friends, for "outlaws" whom I love and who I know have my back as I have theirs, and for a wonderful, happy, beautiful kid who makes my soul sing. Yeah, what a fool am I, but what a great way to go.
How about some Spring poetry:
Revival (Luci Shaw)
March. I am beginning
to anticipate a thaw. Early mornings
the earth, old unbeliever, is still crusted with frost
where the moles have nosed up their
cold castings, and the ground cover
in shadow under the cedars hasn't softened
for months, fogs layering their slow, complicated ice
around foliage and stem
night by night,
but as the light lengthens, preacher
of good news, evangelizing leaves and branches,
his large gestures beckon green
out of gray. Pinpricks of coral bursting
from the cotoneasters. A single bee
finding the white heather. Eager lemon-yellow
aconites glowing, low to the ground like
little uplifted faces. A crocus shooting up
a purple hand here, there, as I stand
on my doorstep, my own face drinking in heat
and light like a bud welcoming resurrection,
and my hand up, too, ready to sign on
for conversion.
Looking at the Sky (Anne Porter)
I never will have time
I never will have time enough
To say
How beautiful it is
The way the moon
Floats in the air
As easily
And lightly as a bird
Although she is a world
Made all of stone.
I never will have time enough
To praise
The way the stars
Hang glittering in the dark
Of steepest heaven
Their dewy sparks
Their brimming drops of light
So fresh so clear
That when you look at them
It quenches thirst.
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