Deep within me, there is a very old woman and a 6 year old living in conflict.
The very old woman is the one who, when I was in High school, thought I should only wear ankle-length skirts and avoid v-neck shirts like the plague. The very old woman gets caught up in all the things that I should be doing and forgets about how much I like to walk outside and pick flowers. The very old woman is a very tired woman.
My 6 year old laughs a lot and puts a boquet of wild flowers in a crystal vase. She dances in the rain and can’t resist puddle jumping. My 6-year old spirit likes to lay in the grass and look at the clouds. She likes to run barefoot all summer.
When I got married, the very old woman told the 6 year old that it was time for me to grow up and start being responsible. The very old woman started directing my attention towards saving money, cleaning house, and simple living. The 6 year old hung around making a few crafts that involved cutting up lots of little bits of paper and taking pictures of bugs and mushrooms.
When I had a baby, the very old woman told the 6 year old that little bits of paper aren’t child friendly and neither are bugs or mushrooms. Cameras should be used for capturing Baby’s every moment, saving money and cleaning house are more important than ever. “Sunny doesn’t have time to play,” said the very old woman. “She needs to focus on more important things.”
The 6 year old was silenced, but my spirit could hear her crying. When I looked for my 6 year old self, I couldn’t find her. She wasn’t hiding in the dandylions or wading in the river. I couldn’t find her in my craft supplies either. I feared that the very old woman had won. But when I was presented with the chance to drive halfway across America with a 7 month old in the back, my inner 6 year old jumped up and shouted, “I call shotgun!”
I started July with a 21 hour drive (twice) that involved admiring rainbows and sunsets and cool looking thunderheads. Re-evaluating how serious I had let life get, and ending with a new resolve to play more.
The 6 year old came out with gusto! She dared me to cut off the internet. And I accepted her dare–I’ll call just as soon as it is Monday. I decided to cancel our internet on Friday evening. By Sunday afternoon I chickened out, and decided that I just can’t live without my internet. Before I told Brenton that I had changed my mind, he had cut the cable and put siding over the hole (we are re-siding our house this summer).
Ah well, my 6-year old said, lets pick cherries instead, so I climbed to the very top of the ladder and filled an ice cream bucket with tart pie cherries. By the end of the week I had canned 10 quarts of cherries and mourned that I don’t own a taller ladder to pick the rest of those juicy red gems.
“Let’s write,” She said. So I pulled out a pen and paper and we wrote. We wrote letters (that will never get sent) and we wrote stories and we wrote to our heart’s content. At the end of the week, we went camping and hiking with Brenton’s family.
When we hiked to the mountain lake, my 6-year old said, “OH! Water! Can I get in.” There is something irrisistable about water to a 6 year old. So it began–just my toes, then my feet, then wading up to my ankles, then up to my knees. OOPS! My pants got wet. Might as well not worry about staying dry now!
The very old woman fought back with a vengance. I’m convinced that she is the one who causes my migraines. They always come when I have been out playing and enjoying myself.
My 6 year old spirit has her foot back in the door and she is a determined little fighter–hair flying every which way, bruised knees, wild eyes.
She won’t give up, and I’m not sure she is going to let the very old woman have the internet back either.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
I think we all have a 6 year old and an old woman living inside of us. The trouble is that my old woman looks like one now but the 6 year old still wades in puddles when she can, plays in the hose and dreams of when her body cooperated with her mind. I too would like to cut off the internet–it robs me of time to go outside and look at the clouds and trees and hear strange bird calls while I look at photos of ones I love and wish I were there. The cable robs me of living in a sweet world where there’s not all the ugliness and evil that exists, and I can escape into a book. But most books unless they’re Dr. Suess don’t even offer that luxury any longer. Try visiting the local library and you’ll see what I mean there.
But otherwise, I am thinking the hole or cable or internet must now be fixed unless you’re at the library on the web site there.
I enjoyed being with you, and while you’re visiting your local website, send me a few photos of your precious Isaac.
Gramma C or E, whichever alphabet letter you like the most.
I remember when you were 6. What fun it was.