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Friday, September 9, 2011

ten years later

I just spent some time staring at the blue blue NYC sky, thinking how long ago and also how not long ago another bright September day was -- and wondered what to think about the passage of these ten years.

My kids have grown up -- no longer a wordless but intense baby and a soulful, wise little kid; they are now a poetic, charming, eloquent and still intense preteen and a soulful, wise young man. Me? I'm the same as I was, is my first thought. But no, of course that's not true. I'm older too; less certain, more hopeful. A bright blue sky isn't just glorious for me anymore but tinged with memory, now.

Also I stubbed my toe last night. And other stuff, both more and less wonderful than that, has happened, too. I baked some muffins, bought a house, planted some flowers, made some friends, wrote some books, danced a bit, sang a lot, drank too much tea and not enough Champagne. Ten years. It kind of feels like a blink. When I was in 7th grade there were lifetimes between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I'll write more about memories and frustrations and the confusions and heroism of then (and now) soon. Right now there's a book to write and a kid to meet after school, roller blades to buy for the other one and a possibly broken toe to ice (? or splint? Urgh, I have no time or patience for a swelling toe!) -- all the usual and, looked at in the bright but qualified September light of remembrance, wonderfully normal stuff of the day.

For now I'll leave you to Meg Cabot's blog note, which I just read for the third time -- and which brings me back again to the trauma and the resilience of that long/not-long ago day...


Okay, my purple toe is throbbing and my patient, waiting book is tapping its own toes, now.

Be safe, have fun, enjoy the day.

Rachel Vail

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