Why does it have to be a fire that reminds you to think about what is important?

I have 100% decided that there is not enough time to do everything I want to do. There is no time to write the beautifully insightful screenplay that changes a generation (I’d settle for changing someone’s outlook on their life during a hard time, but I’m trying to think confidently), there is no time to learn how to knit mittens or plan a backpacking trip through some foreign country, there is no time to level up my D&D character or listen to the 6yo try to remember something he forgot just a second ago but was really important…really…and don’t even think about having time to learn all the things I need to learn in order to know all I need to know.

I might be a little frustrated. (Not much new there.)

Last week I had a few days off to look after the boys before their day care kicked in for the summer. It was lovely. I had big plans. I scheduled appointments and play dates and intended to write the three or four scenes that have been running around in my head…I was going to do the laundry and correspond, catch up on all the bills and maybe knit a hat…instead I just spent a lot of money and got fat because I discovered that dark chocolate covered salted almonds are the best food on the planet.

When I was still seeing a head doctor (the one I liked before I saw the one I didn’t really like but who took my insurance) she told me that I should water what I wanted to grow. Of course, she was speaking metaphorically about putting effort into the things I wanted to be good at and wanted to progress and prosper and all that. Problem is I want everything to grow, and it is really no use using a gardening metaphor for my life because everyone knows I kill plants regardless of my intentions and don’t like dirt on account of the worms.

A friend of mine was recently asked to evacuate her house because of a forest fire dubbed ‘the most destructive in the state’s history.’ ‘You know in an instant what is important to you,’ she told me yesterday. Tears well up in my eyes just at the thought. Well, I do, but I don’t, no I do, don’t I?…isn’t that the struggle I’ve been having for the last year and a half? She said she thought she would be very practical if it came down to it, that the things she would take would be clothes and important papers and things like that. She did gather up all the important papers but the things she needed to save were the irreplaceable things…the projects her kids had made, photographs and family albums. She did throw in a pair of shoes as well…I didn’t ask her what type. Her daughter packed up six bags worth of stuffed animals, ‘didn’t care a thing about clothes.’ I imagine the boys doing something similar…though with books and legos, maybe the PSP. I think the fire is somewhat contained now, at least my friend’s house is out of the immediate danger area now but everything is still packed in her car…just in case.

I can imagine I would be too quick to unpack either.

It did make me think of what was important…what I would bring if I needed to pack up and leave. My laptop is kinda a freebie (other than the kids, obviously, and the cat), as it has all the good stuff on it. I’ve previously discussed my unhealthy need to carry around all those other things I ‘might need,’ so I’ve got a lot of the everyday emergency covered already. The only other things that come to mind: the boy’s hand-made mother’s day cards, the little Liverpool kits they wore when they were babies, my Grandpa’s WWII jacket, my Grandmother’s knitting needles, and the letters my husband and I sent to each other during and after university…I can’t tell you exactly where they are right now.

Maybe I should find them?

Small things of habit and comfort

I am a creature of (crazy?) (insane?) habit.  As I’m trying to pay attention, I am noticing these things.  Things like:

…carrying the 300 page manuscript around even though I know I won’t be able to work on it;

…always parking in the same parking spot.  (Sometimes I do change it, but even when I do change, I seem to make sure it is the furthest one in the row…preferably next to a curb);

 …driving with the window down and the heater on full;

…waiting to the last minute to turn things in or buy presents for people, even when I know the deadline is coming up.

My cat is a creature of habit as well.  She stands outside the bathroom when I take a shower and when I open the door she meows at me.  Then she turns around and stretches, waiting for me to pull her tail.  After I do this, she goes to her scratching post and scratches it before sitting down to watch me running around like a crazy person trying to find things that I can’t find because it’s not like I didn’t know that the morning was coming or anything.

The last two mornings someone has parked in my spot.  We now have to park (because of construction) in what some call the lower forty and some call New Mexico.  It’s not so bad except it’s up hill at the end of the day and it’s about three times as far as I used to have to park.  I have claimed my spot with the oil stain drip mark my car leaves, so I thought people would leave it alone.  But as we all have to fight for a space now or park even further away and take the shuttle, I guess I should have put a sign up…’UNDEAD ONLY’ or something…’BACK OFF, THIS IS MY SPOT AND I DON’T LIKE CHANGE’…’DRIVER SLIGHTLY CRAZY AND CAN’T REMEMBER FROM DAY TO DAY WHERE SHE PARKS HER CAR, SO CONSISTENCY IS BETTER’?   

This morning the same someone was in my spot before me.  They had parked over the line, taking up two spaces so I couldn’t even park next to it, which was very rude.  Got me to thinking again how the smallest, thoughtless act…the insane habit stuff that you don’t think about…can effect others around you.  The acts that I derive unconscious comfort from, could be driving someone else up the wall.  The acts I don’t think about, could be upsetting someone else’s unconscious comfort…maybe I didn’t see the sign that said ‘THIS PARKING SPOT IN THE LOWER FORTY IS FOR THE LITTLE GOLD PICK-UP…DRIVER IN A HURRY, COS THEY DO REALLY IMPORTANT BIG THINGS ALL DAY AND CAN’T BE BOTHERED ABOUT THE SMALL THINGS.’

…Maybe…

All I do are small things, but when you can’t make the big things change, the small things count. 

I was pleased to see there was a notice on the windshield of the little gold pick-up for being inconsiderate and parking in two places…kinda went out of my way to see it and giggle a bit.  Then I carried in my 300 page manuscript the ¼ mile to work, not because I will be able to work on it, but because I found I couldn’t leave it in the car.

Small things can be a world of comfort.

Like the way my cat shouts at me, meowing a little cat cry like she is sooooo hungry when I haven’t feed her yet.  Then, when I do feed her, she pauses and lifts her head to let me pet her before she eats… 

Small things can make a world of diference.

xb.

Two sides of a spinning coin, lost and then found again (why I photograph)

 

This is a small moment.  A moment for seeking solace and providing comfort.

I had forgotten this moment.  In my mind it went unrecognized…through my lens it was fuzzy and fleeting in low light and high emotion.

I am lucky my finger was heavy that night on the shutter, because to me this forgotten, insignificant second is essential.

These moments make us who we are.  These moments remind me that sometimes I am the crying child, sometimes I am the strong arms that comfort.  If I had never been held, I would not know how to hold on.

These moments are so small, I forget them.  I often stand paralyzed with all that has ever happened and been forgotten…there are so many of these small moments, it overwhelms me.

This is why I photograph.

xb.