Childhood Loves.

"What one loves in childhood stay in the heart forever."

~Mary Jo Putney

My childhood was rich with theatre--the showtunes, the occasional show (like my dad taking me to Sunset Boulevard), and some of my own acting. I gave up on the acting, but theatre and its music are more a part of me than ever. Daily! I feel that I'm honoring my childhood self.

I still love dolls and tiny things. As a little-little, I adored a set of tiny colored pencils. Many of my favorite tiny things are on my necklaces--little charms like keys and fairies that help me stay connected to my early self.

I read books for older children as well, and I've read some of them aloud to Oliver. I want him to have a childhood full of sustaining joys that he can carry with him into adulthood.

Storm Fairies.

--Henry Beston

I read this somewhere, and I love the idea of storm fairies. What do they do? Do they live inside storms? Do they bring storms? Or is the storm a metaphor?

I like the thought of being a storm fairy. Maybe I'd sleep wrapped up in wet, gray clouds. Maybe the thunder would tell me secrets, and the lightning would fall in love with me, illuminating my silver dress and gun metal eyes.

There would be others, but I would tell myself I didn't need them--they wouldn't even do their work properly. They would jump among clouds, causing small downpours where they didn't belong. Really, they should have been flower guardians or something light. Their giggles would distract me.

I would be passionate about the rain. It would be a relief for me.

No beautiful spring boy would catch my attention, even with his rain-sprinkled roses.

As If Everything Is a Miracle.

This was Albert Einstein: "You can live as if nothing is a miracle or as if everything is." I've read this before, but it caught me this time. It reminds me of Roald Dahl's saying, "Those who do not believe in the magic will never find it!"

I trust that wonderful things will happen, even though I know that terrible things will happen too.

Some of those miracles I might overlook:

• The breeze and sun on the huge trees across the pond.
• Still having a Dr. Pepper to drink on the morning of grocery day.
• Oliver's jumping dances.
• A long-missing earring suddenly reappearing. 
• A dead pen's suddenly working again. 
• When Josh or Bruce and I say the same words at the same time. 
• My long-lost Tinkerbell ring, which Mom found.
• Finishing a book, every time.

Choices.

I choose

• to forgive myself
• to forgive as much as I can
• to believe in God
• a literary life
• to read 50+ books this year
• to read 500+ books in my 30s.
• to be patient and kind--or at least try really hard
• to be an engaged mother
• to help Oliver believe that books are magical
• to introduce Oliver to musical theatre and give him the chances my parents and grandparents gave to me.
• to see the best in my husband
• to keep journaling
• to learn more about the illnesses in my family
• to enjoy the beauty that is already in my home and life.
• to remember how blessed I am
• to live happily ever after

Some of My Favorite Places.

• My childhood home. My best friend lived there, and then, my parents bought it. It's so packed with memory, and I remember the house's details. Many of my dreams take place in that house.
• My guest room. It feels quiet and and of separate from the rest of the house. I love the book-lined walls, the denim chaise, and the window that seems to attract sunlight. I write there, play with stickers, or just lean back.
• My teen and young adult years' library in Charlotte. I haven't been there in years, but I have good memories of carrying stacks of books to a table and skimming them while I scribbled.
• Pansy Cottage, a town home that Mom rented for a while. It was beautiful and well-designed. It was tiny but comfortable. The town home seemed enchanted, a place to heal and laugh.

Write Your Own Ticket.

I have loved Levenger, which sells fountain pens and other marvelous literary tools and toys, since my dad somehow discovered it. My parents gave me a whole treasure chest of beautiful bottled inks from Levenger.

So this sentence in the catalog caught my attention. How could I write myself a ticket, and what would it be for? An event? Travel?

I guess that in one way it means giving myself permission. If I want to write a book, I'm in charge. Encouragement is great, and I loved the guidance of my many teachers. But I can't wait on others' blessings.

It may also mean that I set the terms. When and where and how. Also, I can write my own ticket to wellness. Even metaphorical exercises like that can ease hurt and stress. A ticket can get me into new states of being. A ticket to be happy even when I'm sad too. A ticket to believe I'm beautiful. A ticket to tell all the truth.

What I Should Be Reading.

First, I'm going to say that I think any reading at any time is beneficial. I'm pleased with what I'm reading now. I mix up genres when I read more than one book at a time. I try to gear up for the challenges. Here are some of the books on my reading guilt list.

•  To Kill a Mockingbird. Josh has made it clear that I need to read this. I think most people near my age read it in middle school, but I was homeschooled.
• Frankenstein. Both Josh and Bruce have talked to me about this one.
• Dracula. This is my own thought.
• Austen. I've only read two of her books. I think I own them all now, so why wait? I'm probably intimidated, not having read anything from that time in so long.
• Bronte. This is the same as the Austen situation. I want to read all the novels. 
• 100 Years of Solitude, which has been on my list for a long time. It certainly intimidates me.

How do you tackle a challenging read?