Wednesday, May 17, 2023

This Summer

The Artist’s Way told me to date my inner artist child, but I resisted the temptation.  I had assignments, papers, grading, lectures, places to be, things to do. Now I have dying plants to nurse back to health, my boyfriend’s novel to read, a delayed Spring cleaning, a Goodwill delivery, and socks to pair. I have a graduation cookout with people from Indianapolis, Fairmont, and Morgantown--for me, but not for me alone.

My inner artist child has waited for seven years--waited for me to be ready to give her the attention she craves. She is tired of everyone and everything else coming first. So she whispers, “This summer is for resting and canning applesauce and jumping from rock to rock in a stream.”  

I have forgotten how.

Rachel shows me how to rest, sleeping until noon. Iva shows me how to take joy in random movement, twirling and kicking her heel over her head. Evan demonstrates eager togetherness by saying yes to every game invitation and to requests to peel apples. And Meghan, she points the way to the stream and tells me to wear shoes that I won’t mind getting wet.


-Melissa Reynolds

No comments:

Post a Comment

Four Fifteen

Who will volunteer to search yesterday's years for buried slightest traces Of a people born to be weather-torn from their prized and pre...