The First Day of School:

There is something about this picture that says so much about the children, what they anticipate and how they feel. I told my daughter that it is photojournalist-esque. I didn't know what other way I could describe the moment that she has captured.

One of the writing challenges Carolyn of Skateboard (link on right) provided yesterday was:

1. Spend some time remembering how your family "tells time"--such as
'before the move', or 'after the accident' or 'when the baby was born.' Make
a list.

Yesterday I was completely stumped by this one. The only thing I could think of was that we so often date our lives according to losses, when somebody died. It seems that it is usually, "Before Grandma died . . . " or "When we still had Lindy . . .". Every now and then we might date things to where we lived when they occurred: "When we lived on South Avenue . . ." or "Before we moved here . . .". Because I am in exile, living in my old house where I never thought I would live again, this is a sore spot for me. I'm afraid it will become a part of our measurement of time and the thought makes me unhappy. I think the fear is that it may be a long measurement of time for my life, that it may be more permanent than I want it to be.

I hate to say it, but right now both subjects seemed depressing. But still, school has begun, I do have some time for writing, I do want to get back with the group and participate if possible and I think it would be very good for me. So it was important to me to try to do these challenges.

And that's it! That's the answer! School has begun. I always dated things that happened when I was child by what grade I was in. And when I relate stories about my older children, I remember when it happened the same way, by the grade they had been in when it happened.

In the picture above, I see my grandchildren beginning another eventful year of their lives. Hannah (not her real name) is obviously excited. She likes school, she is eager to get back to her friends and she is still at that age where enthusiasm for it can make her giggle. I can see her wriggling in this picture. She almost can't sit still for the photograph. While her brother isn't quite so excited. He is at that age where he has concerns and maybe some anxiety about what the day may bring. Maybe he is wondering if the class bully that bothered him last year will be in his class again. I don't know. At that age, I had begun to worry about everything. I would worry about the clothes I was wearing, who my homeroom teacher would be, if my lunch would look sufficiently similar to my friends. So, although I am sure he is excited, he isn't eager, either. And, so begins another year of their lives--a memorable one, an eventful one--one that they will remember and, like me, assign and date to it a cache of memories.