I remember the conversation Amanda and I had as this third book started to take on its identity in the very early stages of conception, before we started writing. It was kind of a global, "what do we want to do with our lives" chat that ran in tangents off topic and back again. We knew we wanted to start looking in earnest for a farmhouse so we slipped into that familiar discussion which lead to the geographical area of where we should be looking for a house discussion. Should we be within twenty minutes of Portland? It takes twenty minutes just to drive across town. An hour? More? How far do we want to roam from family? How will our homeschooling days change in each of these possible places? Before long our heads were dizzy with the complexities of life decisions and their repercussions for each child and ourselves. My heart rate was up and I hadn't even left the couch (does this count as a workout I wondered?).
Very calmly and precisely Amanda said, "I need to slow down."
The words sat in the air for a moment as I heard them, and then sort of evaporated. My breath came back to me as I realized, "of course." Just like that it was easy to see. For this lady, my lady, her life and her writing and her work had all evolved into a nutshell of living in the moment. Taking the time, as we stroll through this life, to notice the small wonders that make up our day. Well, with our growing family those moments come and go and ebb and flow and string together to make months and years and moments become momentum and instead of a poet on the beach you're a firefighter in the street and you're stamping with both feet and...it can happen to anybody.
I remember we kept talking for a long time. This book didn't have to be about what we were doing right this minute. It can be about how we want to live out our year, our life that we make moving ahead. Nothing drastic need be done, we just continue to live. But, we seek out and feel the vibrations of the natural world all around.
Whether we notice or not, the tide will pull and the tide will sway and it can change the weather which can change your day. We are not, any of us, separate from this landscape on which we move across. We can feel distant or removed but, like the arms of a strong parent, its embrace is always there. For us, it appeared to be time to remember, to breathe easier and to return that embrace.
Since the book arrived, I've shared a couple of my essays with Calvin and Ezra. I was so happy to see their pleasure in reading them. I think they were thrilled, partly, because they were in the stories. I also like to think that maybe they understand me and all of the love that I have for them a little bit more when they can see those feelings as written words. Our many days of work laid out in front of them, their hands on the paper turning the page.
Naturally, we still ebb and flow and the peace in our days comes and it goes. We do our best to notice these things. To turn our noses to the breeze and close our eyes if even just for that moment.
{We hope to see some of you at Longfellow Books tonight at 7:00!! Please drop in and say hi if you're able, it would be so nice to meet you.}
