“It’s like someone has dumped out a big jar of marbles and right now they’re all falling in a clump, but starting to separate out. Then on graduation day all those marbles are going to hit the ground and scatter in hundreds of directions.”
–Kiki’s observations on her last month of high school

Kiki is right, we’ve hit the last free fall before her life trajectory is in her control. She’s really feeling it both in her readiness to be doing something else and in her relationships with her friends. Some of those friendships have become a bit more complicated, people who’ve been close for a long time are beginning to pull apart because they know they’ll soon be headed in different directions. Everything in her world is shifting, simultaneously picking up speed and slowing down. Most days she and I end up sitting down and talking about how things are shaking out. A friend of mine warned me about the last months of high school. She and her oldest daughter quarreled lots during the final run to graduation. I’m glad that Kiki’s emotional shifts have not manifested in a similar manner. Though I won’t be too surprised if they do at some point. It is easier to leave people you love if you create a rift first. One more month and then she’s off into her next adventure.

I am not an advocate of dream theory. Most dreams are random and fairly meaningless, but some are significant. The interpretation of these significant dreams can lead to enlightening insights, but I think that the only person qualified to interpret a dream is the one who dreamed it. This is because the dream itself may be nonsense, but our minds can pull meaning and inspiration from the shape of the nonsense.

In March I had two significant dreams. One featured an amazing house full of amazing stuff and I was going to get to live there, except everything in the house needed cleaning or repair. It was a reflection of my emotional state at that time when it felt like everything could be amazing, if only I did a lot of work first. The second dream I’m not going to share, except to say that it showed me exactly what I feared for Gleek when we were in the midst of wrestling with anxiety. Neither dream was pleasant, but contemplating them helped me understand myself and that new understanding changed the shape of things going forward in good ways.

Sometimes the entire dream is not important, just an element of it. I can tell which pieces matter, because they stay with me even after I wake up, they feel important even if I do not know why. Most of the time what matters most is the emotion of a dream rather than the events or objects in it. In my dreams I feel the things I’ve suppressed when awake.

I’m thinking about all of this because Howard had an interesting dream last night with elements that have been re-occurring over the past 20+ years. I kind of want to assign meanings for his dream, to declare that this dream object represents that life challenge, but I don’t get to. Meaning or dismissal are his to assign. I try to do the same for my kids, teaching them that while dreams can be indicators, it is what we do when awake that changes our lives for better or worse. Dreams show up, what we do with them after that is what matters.

I was four years into the business of being alive when Nancy showed up. According to our parents’ report I claimed to like her, but actually felt quite a bit of resentment along with thinking she was cute. I was used to being the baby of a family with four kids, then I was not-the-baby in a family with five. I think it helped that Nancy offered a bribe on arriving, at least mom said the little stuffed bunny came from Nancy. As I grew older I began to have some doubts as to whether a new born really came bearing gifts for older siblings, but by then she was firmly entrenched. Thirty-ish years ago yesterday she changed my life by showing up, she didn’t choose to arrive or to give me a stuffed bunny, the gifts she has given me since are all her doing.

I wanted very much to be a good older sister. I wanted to be better at older-sistering than my older sister was, which in hindsight was the ultimate expression of sibling rivalry. I don’t think I really succeeded, because my strongest memories of being an older sister to Nancy in our early years do not shine the best light on me. She spent her years from three to seven with one of her front teeth gray. I’d pushed the shopping cart she was sitting in too vigorously. She smacked her mouth, killing the baby tooth. I also remember pushing her off the slide and on another occasion making her fetch and carry for me while I drew numberless pictures of horses. In the years since Nancy has been kind enough to forgive me of all of these things, also I did give her some of the horse pictures, so I wasn’t all bad.

Nancy is not my only sister, I have three. There are three brothers too, it was a large family, but of my siblings, Nancy is the one who has chosen to have a public identity on the internet. For the others, I respect their preference toward a low profile. That’s part of being family. Nancy and I have chosen similar paths. In my younger years I would have declared that she was copying me. I did declare that, often, yet none of my frustration, or deliberate attempts at redirection, prevented her from following a path uniquely her own. I think we were both in our twenties when we finally acknowledged the unspoken rivalry and laid it to rest. Nancy had sold a story to magazine, something I’d never accomplished. I’d written a story that made Nancy feel like her own were not adequate. We admitted our feelings and decided that perhaps the writer space belonged to neither of us and that we could both live there without stepping on each others toes. There was space for us both, arguing over it seemed silly when we were both in the trenches of early motherhood and needed to spend our energy supporting each other instead. It was a wonderful conversation, because rivals became unreserved allies.

All of this brings us to today, the day after Nancy’s birthday, when she lives in Germany and I live in Utah. We’re too far for me to bring her a treat or give her a hug. What I can give her instead is a blog post saying that I’m glad she’s here. I’m glad there is an internet that lets us keep in touch even half a world away, and to wish her all the best forever. (Even if the wishes are a day late.)

Happy Birthday Nancy!

The phone rang and it was my friend. “I just called to see how you’re doing.” The call was a kindness from her, because she has been the person to listen many times in the past weeks when my heart was full and my eyes overflowing. This time I breathed in to answer her and realized I had nothing in particular to tell. Or rather, I did have things to tell, but they were all light in comparison with the struggles which I’ve aired in our last five conversations. I carried the phone onto the porch where the sunshine could warm my bare feet. Then we chatted about my things and hers. It is so nice to chat instead of discuss.

Kiki had a list of errands, a few last minute acquisitions that were necessary before prom tomorrow, so we went in quest of hair pins and boutonniere materials. Earlier this week I read an article stating that the average amount spent on prom is $1100. This year we’re among those bringing that average down, borrowed dress, hair and nails done at home, and using the family car instead of a rented vehicle. Kiki was quite pleased with herself when we walked in to the florist and requested a single flower and some filler so that she could make the boutonniere herself. The florist was glad to sell her the supplies, I think they were a bit tired of assembling corsages, at least based on the stacks in their glass fronted refrigerator. Including the flowers, dance tickets, dinner, and day activity, I think our total expense for prom is less than $100. Kiki has already had fun, hopefully tomorrow will bring even more.

“We need to do my history report!” Gleek told me with wide eyes just as she was departing for school.
“Yes.” I answered. “We’ll do it this weekend. Don’t worry about it.”
Gleek nodded, her shoulders relaxed, and she walked cheerfully out the door. This in sharp contrast to the science fair project where I had to coax for extended periods of time for her to believe it was possible at all. Gleek’s internal landscape has become a navigable place instead of a dark and foreboding forest. Finishing the project this weekend is going to require some hustling, particularly since Patch also has a big project, Kiki has prom, and I’m teaching at Writing for Charity. Yet even that feels possible, which says much about my internal landscape as well.

“Do you have a minute?” Howard asked. He then flipped through the test print of Body Politic, showing me places where he needs me to move strips around. These two go onto the next page so that there is room for a footnote he wants to write. That forces this one onto the page after that, which reduces the white space. Together we flipped through the book, drawing arrows and instructions. Nudging the book ever closer to being publishable. I was so very glad for this morning’s conference, we are past the point where the project feels impossible and have instead moved in to the last rush toward the end. It feels like running down hill.

My front lawn is freshly mowed for the first time this year. I took a few minutes and did the job myself instead of spending energy negotiating with children. Afterward I felt accomplished. Next Saturday I need to declare a family yard work day so that we can remove all of the tall grass from the flower beds. I begin to believe that my garden is not doomed to be a weedy mess forever.

Winter is long and sometimes spring is chilly, but then there comes a day when the sun is warm and I step outside barefoot with no jacket. I look around and realize the grass is green, flowers have begun to bloom, and spring has stopped teasing. After things were hard for what seemed like a long time, suddenly they are lovely. It is enough.