I knew I had not posted several months of Elvie’s mostly updates, but I have to admit I was shocked to see these updates haven’t happened in six months. Six months! To say this pregnancy has been rough would be an understatement. Sorry, Cakey-Girl, for leaving these undone for so long.
thirteen months
Our life moves in seasons.
Here we are watching the passing of the last month of spring: the arrival of summer; the deepening of the greens; the growth of the fruit in our infant orchard; the lengthening of the days and the prolonged singing of songbirds as a result. The robins begin with the sun, at around 5:30 in the morning, sitting in the trees outside our bedroom window. I have seen much out of that window over the past month.
Elvie Kathryn turned thirteen months on April 3rd.
This girl is something else. She sashays when she crawls; sometimes when she crawls she raises her hands way, way up and slaps the floor in a fashion that can only be called dramatic. I call it her Spanish Walk. She has the run of the house–probably against my better judgement–I won’t say that she rules the roost, but she definitely makes her presence known.
Words really do get stuck. There is something in the act of opening the computer and sitting down to write that makes them absolutely congeal in my brain. What was a coherent string of thoughts becomes a gelatinous mass of random one-line thoughts. What’s for dinner? We should take the library books back. My back hurts. What’s that noise? What will the weather be like tomorrow? I should message so-and-so back. Where’s Anselm? What was I wanting to write about again? What time is it?
It was raining outside that day, but it was warm. I was determined that we should take a walk that day, even in the rain. Rather, I thought we should take a walk because it was raining. Because we never take walks in the rain. Is it different in the rain? How different? What shall we see that we don’t see when it’s dry outdoors? You don’t know unless you begin, do you?
We took a walk in the rain precisely because we don’t usually. I am ever looking out for those things we don’t do that we perhaps should. It’s something of a hobby–perhaps more like an obsession. My avoidance of uncomfortable things is a never-ending mystery and I investigate it with the tenacity of any detective: Why am I avoiding this? What would happen if I didn’t? I wanted to walk outside in the rain because I never do it. I never do it because it’s uncomfortable. I know that those uncomfortable things usually yield the most surprising and satisfying results.
I think that’s also why I push through these stiffening, uncooperative thoughts, and try to put down here what words I can. There is something in the exercise alone that’s worth it. I always feel better for it.
