My friend of mine mentioned his young baby had begun crying more. Hey, I casually mentioned, babies change.
Isn’t Robert Frost’s line the one real piece of family advice – Life goes on – both through sorrow but also embracing sheer curiosity and joy? For a few years, we held Easter egg hunts at our house, usually pulled together at the last moment, in the sleep-deprived somewhere of sugaring season. This year, the younger daughter decided to flip the hunt around and have the grownups search for treasure, instead.
The kids are taking mastery of the terrain.
Spring fever imbues all of us. Children after school at my library yesterday were giddy and light-hearted. Round, mellifluous Lady Moon rose over the peaked roof of our house last night, shining over the diminishing snowbanks and running streams, the leaf-covered garden beds pushing up through the tenacious crust of what snow remains. The girls and I stood on the balcony in the balmy night breeze. Peepers are not long off.
Plenty of damp and drear will fill April Vermont days; it always does. But the mystery and miracle of spring has arrived. Our landscape changes.
How long does it take to see something, to know someone? If you put in years, you realize how little you grasped at the start, even when you thought you knew. We move through life mostly not seeing what is around us, not knowing who is around us, not understanding the forces at play, not understanding ourselves.
Rebeca Solnit, The Mother of All Questions