Stargazing

As I drove home from Activity Days, I couldn’t help but notice how bright and clear the stars were. When I got home, I picked Owen up and took him outside with me where I did my best to point out the Big and Little Dipper and some of the other constellations that I tried my hardest to remember. Jon is the astronomer in our family, so I invited him out with us so he could help me out. Owen is a big fan of stars as well as being outside, so the quiet night was punctuated with his “Stars! Stars!” exclamation every couple seconds. When I stargaze, my mind slides from topic to topic, a movie projector in fast forward, sliding past all the to-do lists and daily requirements, stopping on random memories and thoughts, highlighting and focusing on them until they form into something I want to explore more. It’s a peaceful and fun process. For some reason my brain has hung onto these (sometimes trivial) experiences and thoughts, so that I can take them out at a later date and perhaps appreciate them for the lessons I have learned. In the quiet moments like this, I get the chance to examine them closer, to buff and polish them until they shine, or to just enjoy their simplicity. Here are some of those thoughts, un-buffed, un-shined, but still very much appreciated. They have potential to become more than just tidbits, but I thought I would enjoy them in the form and order they flipped through in my head.

I was reminded of a road sign I saw while visiting Boston a few years ago. “Squeeze Left” it said. I was alarmed at its ambiguity. Was this a friendly “pardon me” kind of squeeze? Or was this an NFL lineman kind of squeeze? And how much can you possibly “squeeze” when you’re all in cars?

Jon constructed a cake for my birthday in the shape of a flower. “Baked” doesn’t do it justice. I think if we stood it on its end it would tower over Owen. The girls loved it, and not just because it was pink on the inside, but because who wouldn’t love the thought of eating something as tall as you are? Anabel seemed most enthralled with it: touching, poking and yes, even licking it. I was impressed that she could manage to get close enough that licking was a possibility. By the end of the day the flower petals were spotted and pitted with the pokes and swipes of sneaky little fingers. I covered it as best I could, but it was a dilemma I hadn’t encountered before, so a random petal and stem sprawled from under the Saran Wrap. Anabel saw the weakness and moved in without even hesitating. Cake first thing in the morning? Sounds fabulous! I turned as she made her move. “Anabel!” I warned, “You have to eat your breakfast first.” She froze, tongue still out, so close to touching the cake. I had to work hard at not laughing. It seems my daughter has the same survival skills as a possum: freeze and they’ll never know you’re there. I turned away so she wouldn’t see me smiling, but she knows me well. As soon as I turned back she was serenely sitting on her seat, waiting for her breakfast. I couldn’t help but notice the new track through the frosting that just happened to be the same shape as her tongue. It’s hard to discipline anyone over a birthday cake, so I didn’t. Instead I took the opportunity to give her a squeeze. After all, it’s not every day we have a mammoth cake on our counter, so what’s the harm? Later that night we made a big production out of throwing the rest of the cake away. Six months until Birthday Season starts in our family…just enough time to get the cake blue prints completed and approved.


I sneeze just like my mom. It’s a strange thing to recognize, it’s true, but I do. And I have Nancy’s arms, my grandma’s eye color, Michelle’s (well, really, all of my sisters’) tendency toward giggling, and all my sister’s cheeks. I talk like Kjersti, but I sound just like Karen. And there was the time I made the mistake of going to my sisters’ (yep, they all go to the same one) hairdresser and I wound up with their hair cut. It’s a strange thing, these similarities that twist themselves around you and bind you forever to these people. It gives new meaning to “the ties that bind”. I love those things; the little things, that remind me of someone I love. The distance and time apart doesn’t seem so big when I’m able to think of them often, when I’m reminded of them every time I look in the mirror and see more than just the sum of the parts that add up to what makes me who I am.

And I return to where I started. “Squeeze Left” that sign stated. On that star-filled night, I figured there was a lesson in there that was pretty obvious. So I leaned to my left and squeezed my husband and son and enjoyed that moment of complete peace.