Leap.

Today did not exist last year. It will not exist next year. When I click “new post,” I notice that wordpress doesn’t acknowledge today exists today: it dates my post March 1.  I feel like putting “today” and “exist” and “last year” in quotes.  This seems like the beginning of a quagmire,

so i spin my chair away from the computer and watch Callum eating a banana and gently touching the houseplants.  Earlier he draped mardi gras beads on a wee dinosaur with the concentration of someone doing calculus. He brings me his shoes repeatedly and insists on something to me in a language I do not understand, all the while refusing to let me help him put on his shoes. It is exhausting and repetitive and sweet and baffling.   It is snowing in flurries, and I am making my second cup of coffee, with a filter cone, as my percolator broke a few months back.

They say today is a correction, to prevent our calendar from drifting.

A day of correction. A hiccup in our notion of time. We are obsessed with time, with age, with hours and minutes. We have so many things to do, we parcel moments into grids, we monitor the grids and set alarms and reminders on our smart phones. We grasp hold of these pieces of time and we Use them For All They Are Worth, and we think we are stopping time by owning it.

I think the correction is an illusion.  I think it might be good to realize we are drifting every now and then, that nothing is solid. That what we call day and what we call night are nothing more than distance from the sun, that we are little creatures on a spinning orb in a vast openness. This makes me think of all my friends and neighbors and family and the people i send emails to and the people i wait on and the people who piss me off in traffic, all sitting in a rowboat that no one remembered to tie up.  We haven’t drifted very far.  Its weird to be drifting, so we’re all kind of staring at each other, quiet for once, realizing that we are all in this tiny boat together. The shore is within wading distance, and no crises appear to be imminent.

Still, we feel the need to hold onto each other.

Advertisements

7 Comments

Filed under basic goodness, motherhood, winter

7 responses to “Leap.

  1. Thanks Sarah, another beautifully written and moving post. You made my day…the day that exists only in imagination!

  2. This was such a beautiful post. I happened upon your blog a few months ago and I love your work. Recently I became a waitress and am a wannabe author and I suppose I was looking for similar tales or for some inspiration. I’m glad I found your blog and I get excited whenever you update!

    • sarahalisabethfox

      Nicole… I’m thrilled you found the blog. I want to read yours, but I don’t see a link to it in your profile (I’m a little technologically backward.) I’ll keep looking, but can you send it to me? no such thing as a wannabe author. If you write, you are an author. Took me a long time to admit that. We may not be great writers, but by writing we make ourselves authors. hope waitressing is treating you well. Its good hard work that no one can do forever and everyone has to keep in perspective. xo.

  3. “I think the correction is an illusion. I think it might be good to realize we are drifting every now and then, that nothing is solid. That what we call day and what we call night are nothing more than distance from the sun, that we are little creatures on a spinning orb in a vast openness. ” Just lovely. Absolutely beautiful! You offer so much to ponder with few words – a quality of good craftsmanship, my friend.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s