Today's Gift

Today had many gifts, of course--a generous colleague who will mail me a reading I need, children who are full of life and love, a devoted spouse, my very breath. But, one thing in particular stands out today...

Howard and I were out for our weekly coffee when a young-ish man walked up to us. He reminded me that he was in one of my upper-division history classes a few years ago. He told me that he wanted me to know that I--and more precisely my passion in the classroom--am the reason that he is a teacher.

I'm not sure that I deserve such high praise.  He, after all, teaches middle-school kids in a not-very-wealthy district. He does more important work than I ever will do.  But his statement was definitely the greatest gift of my day.

On leaving

(One last trip to the library of the Ministerio de la Cultura, a tea with Ximena, and then back to pack and prepare for the trip home)

It's always so weird to be at the end of a trip to Quito.  As much as I've floundered for focus these two weeks, it's hard to leave without really having gotten to go through more of the newspapers I've been reading. I hate just getting a "taste" of things like this and then letting it go.  I gathered a lot, but there is always so much more to be had. And even though I don't particularly like living in Quito (it's too big for me--and those buses, spewing black smoke and actively trying to run me over--blech), this city, nestled in mountains, does have its grandeur.  And of course I will miss lunches with Ximena.

But I love coming home.  I love home. I love Howard and the kids. I love sleeping in my own bed.  I love cooking in my own kitchen and working in my own office space and taking a bath whenever I want rather than waiting two hours for the water to heat.  And the ocean is just as grand as those mountains.  I love Friday Family Movie Night and listening about the kids' days at dinner each night. I love listening to NPR while I putter around the house. I occasionally even love having the cat around.  And I have a sense of community and purpose at my university that I lack when I work here.

I've sometimes found myself nostalgic on this trip for the days when I came to Quito and could stay a while, on my own.  When I didn't have responsibilities. When I didn't simply "collect" documents to read back home, but actually took close notes while in the archives (even when I took a photocopy).  I miss the days when the Biblioteca Ecuatoriana--set in a lovely old monastery out in Cotocollao--used to have cats roaming all around the building, including into the stacks (though I was warned not to pet them: fleas).  When the Mariscal area of Quito was safe rather than dangerous. 

But my life has moved on from those days. I have responsibilities now, lots of them.  And while the juggle of my varied duties is sometimes overwhelming, I wouldn't trade this richness of life for the freedom of 20 years ago.  

And so goodbye to Quito.  I will, for the present, continue to come and go from here.  But home is in New England, with that crazy family of mine.

Back for a Spell

  

A pounding headache that woke me at 4:00 a.m. Tall buildings out my living room window with just a touch of mountain green in the background, filthy hands, a dinner with queso fresco and avocados that are beyond heavenly...and a stack of newly bought second-hand books (thus, the filthy hands).  Oh, and llapingachos for lunch. 

Yup, I'm in Quito.  

Missing my family terribly and just hoping for a productive trip that will make the two weeks feel not quite so long.  Not even the best avocados on earth (which these just might be) keep me from missing home and family.

Hooky

Anya and I played hooky today.  We baked a cake.  We snuggled and talked. We listened to The Unicorn (which was a regular Sunday-morning-after-church thing when I was a kid; this stands in contrast to our kids listening to the Clash in the car as toddlers).  We watched The Princess Bride (which her brother always refuses to watch for Friday Family Movie).  

In short, we did nothing extraordinary...and yet, it was an extraordinary day.  We needed this, my girl and I.  It was a long semester, and now I'm off to Quito on Sunday for a two-week stint in the archives.  A slow, rainy day to hang out and do silly little things was just the right call.  

Sadly, I can't have the same with Sam. He's off for a three-day class trip to NYC tomorrow, then all day Saturday he goes to the state-level science fair competition. I'm happy for him that he has both of these opportunities. I know that I need to get used to being away from him more, now that he is about to enter his high school years...but I'll miss him so much.

But maybe he and I can play hooky when I return. I think there may be Thai food in our future...

Do your soul a little good...play hooky sometime soon.

Jazz...

NPR had an interview with Jazz pianist Keith Jarrett this morning. We saw him when he played at Boston's Symphony Hall several years ago.  It was when I came up with my only meaningful quote on music (perhaps my only truly meaningful quote ever):

Jazz is the music that happens between the notes of a familiar song. 

I think I might need to get the CD/s Jarrett did in commemoration of his 70th birthday.

50

I’ve been trying to decide what and how to write about this. Hell, I’ve been trying to figure out what I think about this:

Turning 50.

Half a century.

In all likelihood, more than half-way through my life.

(I don’t like to think about that part.)

So, what did I do to commemorate?

I got my hair cut.

Not even a daring new cut—just the standard chin-length bob that is my “go to” short haircut.

My mid-life crisis action was reversible and I’ve done it before. How lame is that?

Still…

I’m 50.

That’s something.

I’m noticing it this decade.

At 40, Anya was an infant, and it was all just “will the baby please sleep and who cares about 40.”

This year…it’s meetings and budget and annual reports and final grading to do not to mention a trip to Ecuador to plan.  No wonder I’d rather think about turning 50.

I can’t quite put my finger on where I should be at 50.

But then, I couldn’t do that at 10, 20, 30, or 40 either.

What I know is that on Friday evening the house was quiet…and there was nowhere on earth I’d rather be than with this silly little family in a post Friday family movie night lull.

And on Sunday I had brunch with friends that I’ve known since Brandeis.  They are as much family to me as my own siblings, and I am forever grateful for these people who have grown through adulthood with me.

I’m also excited to be part of a collective project on female suffrage in the Americas, and to go on the hunt for some voting debates in the Quito archives this June. But don’t want to travel to get there.

And yet: I’m tired and want to slow down and read novels and get off the hamster wheel of working all the time…though I am still not ready or willing to take that leap. I keep talking and talking and talking and thinking and thinking and thinking about it.  I can’t seem to make a compromise and find time/space to bring slow into this life, with work.  Why is that?

Maybe the lesson of my 50s is acceptance.  Accepting where I am in life, lumps and wrinkles and all. Accepting that I am not ready to change my life too drastically just yet (i.e., leave my job), and trusting that I will know when it’s time. Accepting  the choices I’ve made, without regret, and believing that I can still make changes if and how I want to.  

Yeah, that.

Which isn't to say I lack goals: I want to connect more often with those I love. I want to figure out gardening. I want to build a greater sense of community in my life (especially one that is not dependent on work). I want to learn to sew (still--a lifelong, unrealized ambition). I want to contribute, if only I can overcome introversion and lack of confidence to do that. I want to live in harmony with my body. I want to learn to kayak. 

But even all of that requires acceptance--of where I am, what my abilities are, and what strengths/skills/limits I encounter with all these goals (large and small). 

Let’s see if it happens, shall we?

And then at 60, I’ll dye my hair purple. 

Views from Sunday

It was finally a full on spring day here today. Mild and sunny. The perfect day to have a birthday celebration for my boy, who turns 14 on Tuesday. Cake of choice: chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and whoopie pie filling between the layers. He's a smart one, that Samuel. 

Despite the stress of the semester (sooo much to do), it was a pretty mellow day. Once the cake and groceries were taken care of, I found it easy to fit in a few hours of work while sipping my favorite (Irish Breakfast) tea.  Then it was simple to set up a salad bar to go along with cookout food. Birthday cake and presents followed (and espresso for a few of the adults).

Sam's had a great weekend all around, after a stressful week (MCAS, science fair, and endocrine appointment complete with blood work). In addition to birthday celebrations today, he went to a speed cubing competition yesterday and placed third in pyraminx and second in 3 x 3!!!  His 3x3 average was 9.77 seconds, and his best single solve was 9.51 seconds. He was--is--thrilled.  The other silver lining (from his endocrine appointment) was that his A1C was 6.9--great news! (I know, most people don't know what that means--but, it really is a great number for a kid who grew another 2 inches in the past year.)

So much to be grateful for ...spring, healthy kids, loving family, good friends, meaningful work (even if it does make me crazy).  My plan this week is to remember that each day is a gift. No matter how stressful it may be, or how rushed.  Every day is a gift that I am lucky to have, and to have the ability to stop and enjoy if I so choose.