In which we come home, and I set off
1. I've been reading and admiring a bunch of blogs for a couple years now. It's time to stop just being a consumer.
2. Summer's here and I get to stay up late for almost 2 months before school comes down on me again.
3. I used to write. Stories and everything. Then Sarah was born and I stopped literally in mid-sentence. Now I have almost 4-years worth of writing-itch in my typing fingers. So here goes...
We got back from L.A. last night, a three-day trip with just me and Sarah, and I spent much of today on the phone bragging to everyone about what a good traveller she is--staunch, cheerful, game for anything--and how much fun it is to go places with her. I know parents who won't even go to a restaurant with their kids. We drag Miss S. everywhere, and she thrives on it. Even when she was a baby, she was on her best behavior out in public or at a party, saving her meltdowns for private time with her parents.
We don't even have to leave our house to travel: as my spouse* the Renaissance Woman has pointed out, we're all time-travellers anyway: Me, RW, Sarah. Miss S. loves the They Might be Giants song "Older" ["You're older than you've ever been and now you're even older... and now you're even older..."]; she thinks it's a happy song. She's even older now! and now! and now! Closer to being 4, to kindergarten, to being a teenager, a grownup... time travel might spell mortality to RW and me [and probably you], but it's Sarah's ticket to freedom.
And I travel with Sarah even when I'm apart from her. At work, where I just hung the picture she gave me for my birthday; at the movies I get to go to by myself sometimes now we've hit the 3-year mark; even up late at night the way I am now, indulging myself in my favorite vice, text [online and print], she's tucked in a corner of my head.
We have three more big trips planned this summer, not to mention all those exciting little ones to the park, the library, and down to the corner to see what's happening. I cleaned the Santa Monica sand out of the suitcase today and set it on the porch to air. Connie's coming over tomorrow to plan the camping trip next week. Summer is icumen in, loude sing yippee. As RW's mom used to say to her when she and her best friend were 4 and rattling around the back seat of the car in those heady pre-carseat days: Hang on, girls!
*according to the Province of British Columbia, and presumably recognized in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, a few other localities, and the New York Times