By Jennifer Savage
Seth and I have been talking a lot about shifting sands.
We’ve been talking about our house in Arlee, the mountains there. The new fence. The driveway that needs repair. We’ve been talking about how much we miss it.
We’ve been talking about the mortgage industry, the battering we took trying to buy a house in Missoula. We’ve been talking about Dan, Chris and Steve and how all mortgage lenders seem to have one-syllable names, Blackberries that constantly buzz and a bag full of promises. We’ve been talking about was it worth it.
We’ve been talking about meningitis. Six months after it landed me in the hospital, we are uttering the words: could have died.
We’ve been talking about a new year, a fresh start. We’ve been talking about hope and confidence and a new take on stability. We’ve been talking about taking deep breaths and actually letting them out.
And we’ve been doing all of this talking over the chatter of our three-year-old, the sweet bleating of our 19-month-old.
We talk over their heads and tell Eliza, “Mama and daddy need to talk too.”
To which she replies, “I don’t want you to talk!”
She is the center of her universe and our talking to each other about things she doesn’t yet understand is not okay. She knows on some level we are talking about big things, maybe even scary things and I think it makes her uncomfortable.
Her sands have been shifting too.
But still, we talk. Sometimes in bits and pieces, a sentence or two at a time. Sometimes a whole conversation in the tired quiet of our house after Eliza and Lucille are asleep.
We’ve been talking about the weather. This gray, Missoula winter making us long for places warm and beautiful. South Carolina. Utah. Mexico.
We’ve been talking about Eliza and Lucille and if we are doing the right things for them. Are we teaching them to be compassionate and confident, assertive and gentle? Are we taking enough time to read them books, climb hills, make up stories? Are they okay? Will we always wonder these things?
We’ve been talking about how a friend of ours says sometimes things fall apart. And they do. It is what it is, she says. And we have to accept it and move on. She’s been studying Buddism and we’ve been trying to heed her words. Things fall apart, they come back together and they fall apart again.
We’ve been talking about how things fall apart but how we don’t have to.
It reminds me of a James Baldwin quote someone read at our wedding I’ve been rolling it around in my head this week and could only remember the concept: we cling to each other, children cling to us.
I finally dug up the quote and was surprised at how well Baldwin’s words, read to us by our dear friend Peter the day we got married, describe the past year.
For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other the sea engulfs us and the light goes out…
Nothing is fixed. We’ve learned this on a visceral level this year. Lovers cling to each other. And for me and Seth that means talking and talking until we make sense of it all. Children cling to us. They look to us to guide them through illness, starting over. This is scarier than just about anything. Eliza wants to talk too.
But I’m wondering if the time has come to stop talking so much, step into the shifting sands and start living again. It is what it is. Shoes need tying, books need reading, foreheads need kissing.
Nothing is fixed. Things fall apart. We cling to each other. We take deep breaths. We let them out. We move forward together.
Jennifer Savage is a recovering Southern belle, learning to be Montana farm girl and, most recently, Eliza and Lucilles’s mama. She is also one of Mamalode’s favorite writers and you can fall in love with her too at http://savage-mama.blogspot.com
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Jennifer, I like this a whole, whole lot! Very nicely done.
“When Things Fall Apart” by Pema Chadron (Buddist) is my go to book. Much recommended…
Great, Jennifer. Just great. Happy to be reading you again.
So glad you’re back – I love this voice and I’ve missed it.
Welcome back lady. And with a bang. Thank you!
Ahhhh, I LOVE it, Jennifer! I am so glad Savage Mama is back… I’ve missed your voice so!
I got the chills reading this and that, more than anything, is my measure for goodness. I especially love love love this line:
“We’ve been talking about how things fall apart but how we don’t have to.”
Mwah!!!
Becca
Sometimes you need a mantra, and that Baldwin quote is great. Good stuff. Thanks.
Savagemama is back! Good to hear your voice again lady!
I love this. I’m so happy you are writing again. I’ll be in touch soon. Hope you are all doing well. I also hope you are planning to come to Seattle for a long weekend sometime.
You say it like it is. Life is full of reflections. Who is perfect? I like the piece Jennifer. Nicely done.
How timely for me to be reading this. The tears are falling. I love you guys so much. This is so beautifully written, Jennifer.
wonderful. savagemama is back! xo
Thanks a good deal! I truly enjoyed reading this.Looking through these posts and the information you’ve provided I can appreciate that I still have a lot of things to learn. I will keep reading and keep re-visiting.
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Thanks for posting this great article!