 No matter how cold and it miserable gets, I will always look forward to winter trees. These gorgeous geometric complexities are always there, but throughout leaf season they are hidden from view. I love that we get over half a year to enjoy these spectacles in all kinds of light, in silhouette, black on blacker, gray on blue, dark on light. They sway, they clack; they are outlined in detail with snow, or encased in ice, or dripping with sparkling thaw. Birds flit amongst the designs, every perch wonderfully observable. If you get feeling down about winter, spend some time appreciating winter trees. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 116: 103 words, TOTAL = 19,019; 40,981 remaining
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 I’ve just finished grading the last paper of the year (barring any desperate last-minute emails…). I am relieved, numbed, and happily anticipating a semester off this spring. On the other hand, I will miss the contact with young minds, the insider view into their rich life stories, and the moments when they light up with discovery. I just read my students’ final essays, reflecting on the semester’s work. No doubt many of my ramblings drifted like snow and melted away, but a few things took root, which is deeply gratifying. It’s especially wonderful to hear from those who say they used to dislike writing, or saw no point in it, or felt it had nothing to do with them. “I can finally see why you say that writing is the Sun and the Moon,” one student wrote; “writing is everywhere and it is essentially a part of everything we do.” More than anything, I love the idea that I might have guided someone towards finding their own voice. That’s why these two were my favorites: “I learned to write like myself.” “Throughout this course, I have discovered myself as a writer.” There is no greater compensation than that. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 115: 198 words, TOTAL = 18,916; 41,084 remaining  Now that the sun is coming up after 7am, there’s a chance I might encounter my old flame, the dawn, from time to time. It’s been ten years since our yearlong affair, and I haven’t stopped fantasizing about writing a memoir about our time together. The dawn became my muse, my inspiration. When we shared those rarefied, private rendevous, my soul came alive with sparks of excitement, or serenity, or revelation. But alas, the two of us reside in different time regions. The dawn demands an absolute commitment that I could not sustain. Nevertheless, on those occasions when we meet, I am flooded with the same sparkling seas of warmth in my heart and soul, even today, when the thermometer read 2 degrees Fahrenheit. Nothing can ever remove my deep attachment to the dawn, and the dawn, in turn will never let me down. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 114: 144 words, TOTAL = 18,718; 41,282 remaining  Let’s take a break from uncertainty and stick with black and white. The bathroom floor Whoopee pies Saddle shoes Dominoes Zebras Chess pieces Piano keys Math My two black dogs in the snow Belted Galloways Silhouettes The pupil and the sclera Pages of a book Old movies Stars in the night sky Oreos Pandas Undeveloped minds No important ideas, ever Oops. Landed back in uncertainty. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 113: 65 words, TOTAL = 18,574; 41,426 remaining  I’ve been playing the piano for a preschool Christmas party for over a decade. Today I played downstairs with the three-year-olds, and my usual amusement was enriched by a new layer of warmth as I imagined Fiona in such a scene, not far in the future. “I can’t see anything!” said a child, Santa hat fallen over his face. They “sang” in a circle, looked shy, gave homemade gifts to Mom and Dad. Classic. Upon Santa’s surprise arrival, they bounced with glee, or burst into tears, clutching their grownup. I can’t deny that it is adorable, and families seem to enjoy it. It is a privately-owned business. However, a part of me questions the focus, in this modern day when we’re finally tuned in to the reality that many of our neighbors do not get a Santa visit. When Santa asks each child “if they’ve been good” and what they want for Christmas, it makes me squirm a little. Am I being a stick in the mud? My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 112: 167 words, TOTAL = 18,509; 41,491 remaining  In today’s Bangor Daily News, one headline said “…man dies after attack in his front yard.” My heart goes out to anyone suffering from traumatic loss. Something else struck me about my response to this headline. My first assumption was that this man been attacked by a wild animal or dog run amok. Turns out his attacker was human. I appreciate living in a place where my mind doesn’t leap immediately to human violence. I like reading news about the healthy loon population, or “what to do if you lose a finger in an accident,” two more items in today’s paper. Yes, there are also updates on a local murder trial and the impeachment vote, but I’m happy to be reminded that there is more to life than disturbing and depressing phenomena. Local news is where we live, and at least as relevant to our daily experience. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 111: 147 words, TOTAL = 18,342; 41,658 remaining  My mom died in March of 2014. My dad died 3 years later, in August of 2017. It sounds so simple and compact. The World Trade Centers collapsed. The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. The US bombed Hiroshima. The Nazis exterminated six million people. A meteor wiped out 80% of life on Earth. History reduces the cataclysmic to a footnote. My one insignificant life was cataclysmically changed by my parents’ deaths. On my computer’s desktop that I see every day, I installed a photograph of Mom and Dad, smiling from beneath an umbrella on a rainy, celebratory day. “I’ll never change this background for the rest of my life,” I thought. A couple of years later, a friend sent this photo of them, canoeing on an exquisite fall day, on the glorious lake where they both grew up and fell in love. I changed the photo. They are farther away now, but always there when I open my computer. It gives me stomach knots when the thought rises, but I’m feeling the possibility grow that there will come a time for this photo, too, to run its course. My life continues. New pulsing centerpoints crowd into my soul, the insistence of ongoing life. Greenery pushes through cracks in the sidewalk and emerges from scorched land. I will never release Mom and Dad from my heart, but if they heard that I am drifting towards life’s expanding glories rather than missing them, they’d say, “Well it’s about time!” (For those who haven’t seen it, my essay about my parents’ extraordinary life endings is published here, in Solstice Literary Magazine: https://solsticelitmag.org/content/how-do-you-help-your-parents-die/) My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 110: 246 words, TOTAL = 18,195; 41,805 remaining  Winter seems to have gone on vacation. I had this imagined scene in my head last week, where Jonathan came home and admired all my epic shoveling of the 7 inches of snow that blanketed the driveway. Big piles attested to my shoveling prowess. Rain, rain, rain, temps over 50 degrees, a roller coaster of weather. No snow in sight, bare driveway, puddles abounding, sodden grass. No evidence to share of that snowstorm independence. You might have to live well north of the 49th parallel for dependable white Christmases in the future. Perhaps we’ll get snowcover again here in central Maine; could go either way. Speaking of changing Christmas, this December 25th will be Jonathan’s and my first Christmas day in 33 years without children in residence. You might think we’d be bereft, but we’re both looking forward to the novelty. It helps to know that kids will be trickling in shortly thereafter. Time marches on. Best to just keep in step. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 109: 162 words, TOTAL = 17,949; 42,051 remaining  Jonathan returns from a 2-week work trip on Sunday. I like being alone, so I didn’t think it would be so bad being on my own for 2 weeks. Plus I had a quick visit to Portland for a night, and I kept busy with school and various outings. I thought the biggest difference was how long one tub of yogurt lasted in the refrigerator. Then I noticed that I wasn’t sleeping very well. Then I realized I was becoming gloomy and reclusive. Then Tessa and Oscar came to visit yesterday, and I found myself talking to Tessa non-stop for an hour and a half. Alone time is great. Too much alone time is not so great. I think that it’s only great when you know it’s going to end soon. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 108: 131 words, TOTAL = 17,787; 42,213 remaining  Must remember… I woke up pondering the day ahead as I lay morose in bed. The only theme that fit my mood was the “I suck song” from The Last Five Years, the Broadway musical, with the iconic line: “I suck I suck I suuuuuuuuuuck.” That’s what I’ll write about today, I thought, brooding. Then I dragged myself up. The temperature has dropped 35 degrees since yesterday, But the sun is brilliant, the air sharp and clear, The dogs keen to venture forth, as ever. One lap around the fields, throwing a stick for Kate Who returns, wobbly, but shaking her stick playfully just the same. A chickadee bustles My cheeks buzz with chill The frozen grass makes a satisfying crunch under my feet. My heart quickens, spirits lift, deep breath of winter. What a good day. Must remember. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 107: 139 words, TOTAL = 17,656; 42,344 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs. Archives
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