Naro has gotten taller (furthest to the right), and he looks stoic, and almost sad. And I remember the funny way that his hair smelled, and the way his nose crinkled when he smiled. I remember when he first learned to read, and how he hugged me so tight. Once, he had run a race around the track, coming in lengths ahead of the rest of his peers. He came back into the classroom, beaming, beads of perspiration on his forehead. "Teacher!" he yelled, "Did you see me run?" I nodded, and he gently grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest, so I could feel his heart beating.
Some moments I'll wish to feel wild and unattainable and wander courageously and independently through life, not wanting to feel any obligation to do the laundry and bleach the grass stains off their shirts, or drop the dry cleaning off, or own a mini van. And then other moments, embarrassed at how conventional this sounds, I'll think, silently to myself, about how wonderful it would be to love a man, and take care of a child. And how it might be okay if the stains never quite come out, and we don't own any clothing that needs to be dry-cleaned, and how maybe I can get one of those seats that attach to my bike, so I can take my kids with me when I decide to buy groceries from the farmer's market. And here we can laugh when juice from our peaches dribble down our chins, and they draw on the walls with crayons. One moment I'll feel exhilarated at how the future is filled with so many possibilities, and the next, I'll feel discouraged, that everything is so unsound.
Last week, I expended a small amount of effort to show a few discouraged friends that I cared about them. Yet, preparing dinner and making a hot cup of chai, and writing a card is nothing. Yet these people seemed wonderfully appreciative, and surprised that anyone was willing to be there. This made me sad. The battles here are different. Here, we might have clean water and new shoes, but we also have loneliness and apathy, and the misconception that the edges must always be tucked away nicely and neatly folded under. And that failure and public speaking is worse than death or poverty. That it's better for them to just not know that you're secretly a mess, and an embarrassment to the standard. I want to live well, and with balance. I wish I knew what that meant.
2 comments:
I really liked this blog. I agree. I made something for my neighbor, a big card and stuck it on his door. He loved it and said nobody has ever done that for him before. I thought that was sad nobody had ever done that for him before, but I was glad that he loved it. I love doing things like that!
but its true, the challenges are different no matter where you are in the world
Beautiful. Thanks.
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