Monday, April 24, 2006

Missing memories...

So you're wondering why I don't have photos up anymore... wondering where my fabulous frame collection has gone... why the empty walls in my house when I've never been one for empty walls...
Me, the queen of photos, who always surrounded myself with photos galore... As far back as when I only had one side of a room as my own -- when every teeny wall space was jammed with photos, photos of people I loved and who loved me, celebrations and ordinary moments. There was that photo that everyone loved of me and my mum laughing so hard we couldn't stand up... the rare photo of my dad laughing so hard I could hear him snorting when I looked at the photo... My mum squeezing my dad's cheeks and squeeling with frustration and passion and intensity...
I can remember all of my rooms over my lifetime by the photos I hung on my walls -- corkboards filled twice over, mirrors with snapshots squeezed into the frame all the way around...
I grew up and the photos changed to capture the emerging memories of camel treks with mum in the Cholistan desert, hiking expeditions with dad in the Himilayas, graduations and boyfriends and new adventures.... Then the favourite photo of mum and I with our arms around each other like so many times before but this time me wearing the wedding dress she lovingly hand stitched.
But then the world stopped. Just for a second. And they got off.
And I stayed on.
And everyone comforted me.
"they're still with you. all the time now, they're with you!"
And they were. But there were no more memories to be made. No more photos to capture those missing memories.
My life continued on. At an even faster pace. I had my baby girl. And I saw them that night. Felt them, at her birth. But they didn't show up in the photos. My baby grew and began to sleep for hours at a time with a peaceful smile on her face and I knew they were holding her for me, rocking her so I could sleep. And I ached for a photo of just that. Mum holding my baby girl, tears in her eyes for all the love and beauty and preciousness of her. My baby grew more and I ached for a photo of my dad in his favourite chair, pushed alllll the way back, my girl perched on his knee being read to, hour after hour after hour... Then she grew into a giggling toddler and I more than once contemplated playing with photoshop, piecing old and new photos together to capture just one memory of my mum tickling her outside on the lawn, playing camel with her as she huffalumped around the yard, my babygirl squeeling with delight on mum's back... But those were just the memories of my dreams and there are no photos of dreams.
It's been 6 years since they left me. I guess one blessing is I haven't had any block against photos. I have thousands! Yes, thousands. All digital. I've even managed to fill four very large photo albums to prove to my two beauties that they were once babies. Albums, yes. Albums I can close up and walk away from. Pictures on the walls? You can't not see them. They stare at you, forever reminders of who's not in them.
But it's been 6 years (less 12 days). My life is so full... so blessed... so absolutely amazing. Yet I miss my mum and dad every single day of my life. And I KNOW they're still with me. But I'll never stop wishing I could prove it with photos... Because I'm the queen of photos. Still. And as it happens, my friend (who also happens to be my aunt) was just here and with the strong encouragement of another friend (who happens to be my cousin), we got that fabulous collection hung on the walls. Empty, sure. But they are a powerful reminder of how grateful I am that my life is NOT empty. My life couldn't be more full. And I have photos to prove it... And so! You'll be happy to know that I am busy choosing a few old favourites to hang alongside the living, laughing, loving NEW memories I am so blessed to be creating every new wonderful day...
Come by soon and have a look!

My new theme song

I see trees of green
Red roses too
I see them bloom
For me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

I see skies of blue
And clouds of white
The bright blessed day
The dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces
of people going by
I see friends shaking hands
Saying: “How to you do?”
Their really saying
“I love you”
I hear babies crying
I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more
Than I’ll ever know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world. Yes
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world.
Oh Yeah.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

how well do you REALLY know your mother?

I've been thinking a lot about who I AM and who it is that my children will know when they're grown up and thinking of me. Will they know me only as the conservative, well-intentioned woman holding on a little too tightly to control in her life? Or will they know me as I wish to be? How will they describe me to their soulmate before I've met them? Passionate? Easy to laugh? Always ready to play a game or a trick, eager to tickle them to the floor, wrap my arms around them for a too-hard squeeze at every opportunity... Will they know the me that loves to try new things? Or will they see me as stuck in my old ways... Will they see me as a rainbow of colours, of emotions, of passions? Or will they think of me in beige and navy blue... Who will they call when they want to plan a trip thru the crowded markets of Morocco? or when they decide to trek through Mongolia? Will it be me? Or will they think me uninterested in such alarmingly wild adventures... Will they connect me to the girl who studied wildlife in Kenya, sleeping in huts with mud floors? Will they see me as still the girl who rode camels through the Cholistan Desert for 8 days, sleeping under the stars? Or will they be disconnected from those stories, seeing me as anything but adventurous? They will know the stories of me diving deep into the Indian Ocean in my bikini, reaching deeper still deeper for the conch shells so big that I could hardly lift them to the surface... But will they see me as still being that person? Who will I be to my children?
I know wildly wonderful goddess women who I experience as being great big happy crazy amazing adventurous women. And I know their children. And I know that their children don't see even a glimpse of who these women REALLY are. Why is that?
I can't help but wonder how my children will know me when they are grown. And I guess I wonder if it doesn't depend on who I am to ME. Right now, as I raise them. Definitely something to keep in mind as I go about living my BEST life...
How would you describe YOUR mum? How well do you REALLY know her? Why not open your mind just a little wider, put away your small beliefs about her, open yourself up to the possibility of who she really is? I know she'll be grateful...

Friday, April 14, 2006

Happy Easter!

Looks like someone finally caught the Easter Bunny! Look at those FEET!!!