It feels like deja vu. It was less than a year ago that the boys and I evacuated our home because of a flooded kitchen. Although not as severe, we had to come down to my parents' house while repairs are being made. So here we are, the boys and I, at my parent's house, while the kitchen is being worked on. It started as a malfunctioning refrigerator that ruined the new floors. Then, while the floors were being pulled out, another leak was discovered.
It is always nice to get back to the country. My favorite time is dusk, when the air cools down and all the life happens. All the critters come out and the dry land comes alive. I have been running down the dirt road with Chance, my parents' lab. The dirt road connects the plot of land where I lived from infancy to age 5, to the place where I lived when I left my parents to live as an adult. It reminded me of a neural pathway. What was I connecting? I realized on the way back that I was bringing back a feeling. The feeling of being like a child.
I am not sure of a way to adequately explain it, but you know it when you feel it. It is magnificent. So I took that information from there, and brought it with me. I traveled along a pathway to bring the information of the past to the present. And I had a sumptuous time. All the sights, sounds, smells, feelings, tastes, memories...I used them to connect with my boys. To observe what was going on around me. I had to slow down to do it. I had to cut out the noise. It takes effort, and that effort is worth it.
One gusty evening, David and I were sitting on the porch. He was aware of the wind, how it felt. I talked to him and asked him how he could sense the wind. He could feel it on his skin. He could hear it, both blowing past his ears and other things, including a wind chime. Then I had an idea. I licked my finger, and wetted his index finger with it. He immediately responded. Then I did the same to the inside of one of his feet. I licked my finger again, and made sure to apply it to the part of his foot that gets the least contact with the floor during the day. Then I did the same to the middle of the foot. His learning switch was on! That wind was being converted in his brain, into information, new pathways.
Watching Donnie play outside one evening, my mom and I were commenting on how he loves all the cats. We call him the cat whisperer. My parents began to recall when I was his age, walking outside to find me sitting on the air conditioner with all the cats. They were taken aback to see that I was conversing and having dinner with them, as if they were some sort of family. Another time at dusk, my mom and the boys went for a walk. Suddenly, Donnie says, "scorpion!" We stopped and looked. It took a while, but finally, I saw a tiny baby scorpion crawling through the grass. It was about a quarter of an inch long. Somehow, I imagine that these things are genetic.
Back to the pathway. What happened along the path? I breathed. I ran. I walked. I looked. Off in the distance, I saw the wind farm. Lines of mesmerizing windmills. I was surprised I could see them from such a distance. What is wind? It is movement.
And so, less than a year ago, we left home because of a flooded kitchen. Back then, the event spurred me to worry, to plan, to calculate. Now, it is happening again, and I'm doing things differently. I haven't been worried. Instead, I have been observant. Where there was noise, there is acceptance, observation and action. Now that the noise has lessened, I realize that the many things I used to worry about are just that: noise.
I have not used my time to complain, but to act with awareness. Doing it the second time around is much better. Acceptance used to mean defeat to me. Now, it means, get on with it. Keep going. Enjoy what you can while you can, because in every detail, there is something to be enjoyed and something to be learned. There are multitudes of pathways waiting to be explored.