Since I was a little girl, the car window was like a magical lens for me. While my siblings played random traveling games, I’d stare out the window and watch the rolling hills, the purple sunsets, the hitch hikers dragging feet, the black smoke from the big wheel trucks.
When I’m the passenger, my thoughts scatter. My brain empties itself and it absorbs the images and fleeting nothingness. Sometimes, my mind wanders to unresolved things that I haven’t figured out. A political article that confounded me. The latest piece of news I heard from a friend. A hiccup at work that I didn’t smooth over yet.
Like magic, the road can be a place of vision. Perhaps it’s the movement. The silent way everyone’s concentrating on the road and their bright little GPS gadget telling them how much further until they reach their destination. Travel, for me, can sometimes be a meditation all on its own. In quiet drives, I can hear myself think and epiphanies, random resolutions, declare themselves in the small space of my car.
Epiphany: as there is no right way to mother, there is no right way to father. Nick doesn’t do things my way because he’s not me. And I’m not him. Why do we expect fathers to do things our way? If we are to truly work toward egalitarian parenting styles, parents must model this in their own homes. Parenting is about loving, not about correcting.
Epiphany: In about two generations, families will be more integrated. There will be a movement back toward village living. This whole isolated/parents working like crazy for limited family leave/doing it on your own model of US parenting we have going on right now is DYING. Families are meant to be built in community. And having good company around you is NOT the same thing as intentional community. Play dates are not the same as building a community together and helping one another raise our families. This includes both children and our aging parents.
Epiphany: I don’t need much, but I do need space. This morning, I sat on a carpeted floor (luxury in my world) with my back propped against a bathroom door while everyone else in my friends’ house was sleeping. I was entirely comfortable and content. Fancy work desks and “a room of one’s own” are not prerequisites for time to write.
Epiphany: Love, still, can stop my heart in wonder. This morning, I saw Nick sleeping on his stomach, head below (nearly under) the pillow, right knee bent at a slight angle, left knee face down and leg stretched out and over the mattress. Glancing to my right, my heart stopped when I saw Isaiah in the complete same position. Angles matching identically. His abbreviated body had even moved OFF the roll out mattress and his head was barely on the mattress, being used as a pillow. The image, eerily identical, was startling. Father/son. Symbiotic in sleep. I reached quietly for my camera to grab the moment, but Nick flipped over and the moment was gone. My heart was so full of stunned love, I took a mental photo.
More scrapbook epiphanies to come.