Try as I will, I can't keep myself from blinking, and all of a sudden it's October. Our "Learn As We Grow" slogan has created a life of its own as it gains meaning each day. Which I unconsciously hoped it would, I suppose. Learning and growing seem to be all I have much time for lately. I feel totally full of new knowledge and I'm trying not to overflow.
I want to make art. I cannot contain myself, nor do I want to. To capture these beautiful moments is among my highest priorities. I feel how I do sometimes when I get a whole bunch of good ideas all at once and I'm without my tape recorder (iPhone). I know some of the goodness is going to inevitably slip through the cracks. It's simply too beautiful, the blissful warmth; the ability to recall memories fully, emotion and all, is something Sherlock Holmes would yearn for.
Summer has set slyly into fall, although I haven't erased our whiteboard calendar yet. As I read back over some of the notes from our past month I am hit again with the impact of change as it happens right before my eyes. It's like watching the most beautiful flower bloom. Even if we never take our eyes from its constantly morphing color, we will still be in awe of the wildness of the result.
Lately, the moments for artistic work that I make for myself (and that she makes for me) have been spent less on my typewriter and more with my guitar and tape recorder (iPhone). I want to make a memento of his growth every so often, so I may recall some of the specificities of this exceedingly special time; like his nickname: "Little Mouth" when he is lost in fascination, the dates that he first crawled and definitely said "Dada" (September 9th and 10th respectively), and the raging squeal, which comes no longer solely from discomfort but pure excitement, often giving way to a smile and sometimes the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard.
Time doing artistic work is crucial to this memory-crafting. Sometimes just writing down these things that are happening is enough. And sometimes it isn't.
I woke up the other morning to try and change a diaper. I succeeded in changing said diaper, but I had to really try. When I checked the clock, it was four. I was awake. So I got up and penned three verses to a melody I had been hearing. Hidden blessings; life is full of them. This is the first tune I've written since the last one. That one's taken a year, and I still don't have it just right. So it goes.
As our first year as a family continues to round out, this new tune may be a better illustration of my life and emotions than a blog post, but I thought it still necessary to staple this time in memory through simple words and photo. Roland is doing much more than just sitting up now. We hang out. His garbled sounds like he's actually talking to me. We grunt back and forth at each other, and we make each other laugh and smile. He exclaims his excitement for footballs and candy wrappers, and he crawls all around the house. He even walks in a circle (with my help) around the stair column which I use to carry him when he was a true infant. He is growing up fast, as promised. I can only try and grasp at these beautiful memories like the autumn leaves that fall from the trees outside my window.
Whether the phase you are in brings you song or story, tireless gusto or unyielding lethargy, be patient and give yourself to art in some way. Allow your creativity a chance to first plant and then sow seeds of beauty that will produce the fruit of the future, ripe and juicy with love and warmth.
