Happy Thanksgiving

My mother’s spirit woke me at 5:00 on this Thanksgiving morning reminding me to put the turkey in the oven. It’s just a 5 ½ pound turkey breast that we’re cooking for sandwiches later, not the 30 pounder she would put in her oven the night before, but still she knew I should get it in there before the bustle of the day. Our tradition includes getting the girls to school to prepare for the game, spending some time in the stands to watch the half-time show, then rushing over to the lake to have dinner with the Andersons. Later, we’ll be back at our house to host some Lamarres for soup and sandwiches and dessert. And, because of my mother’s thoughtful spirit, I am up recharging in the quiet of my house, the turkey in the oven my coffee hot in my mug, being alone the way I need to be before a crowded day.

I am thankful.

scenes from a birthday

My baby turned 15 today. She is both excited to reach this milestone, and frightened by what it implies. Growing up isn’t easy and it can stress teenagers out to think about fast-approaching adulthood. So, when asked how she wanted to spend her day, she fell back on some old standbys – out for lunch and sitting in the bookstore for as long as we can. It’s a ritual that brings us back to when they were little and I could spend the day with them all the time. Still, here in the truth of the day, teenager interests were ever-present. We shopped for fun clothes and new bras, the girls checked out all the cool stuff at Newbury Comics, and she is now listening to pop music while reading fan fiction on her phone.

It was great to be able to skip school together today and enjoy her day, doing all the little girl and teenage things she wanted to do.

Of course, this is how I still think of her . . .

moving on

At the end of this school year there were suddenly two high school students in my house. Anya finished middle school and in September will be a freshman in high school.

Middle school can be tough. Kids do a lot of growing up and changing and that can mean that friendships that were once important become, well, less so. As they mature and explore new interests and begin to lose passion for others, friends in 8^th grade can suddenly find that they have little in common. And that doesn’t have to mean the end of a friendship but sometimes it is anyway. Trouble is, your average 14 year old does not approach this situation with calm reflection. (Really, do we at any age?) Friendship is emotion, and so is adolescence.

When I went to high school I held on to my middle school friends for a little while, but I was quickly preoccupied with new people and new interests. I never had a fight with my friends, never called them names or passed them “break-up” notes, but one day looked up and they weren’t there and it didn’t upset me. When I ran into them later it was always pleasant, and I even enjoy catching up with them now on Facebook. I grew in different ways than they did.

This phenomenon has happened a few times in my life. When I went to graduate school I lost touch with a few of my working friends. When I became a Mom I felt some of my single friends fall away. Even my relationship with my siblings has morphed over time, depending on where we each were in our pursuit of happiness.

So, my 8^th grader, now 9^th grader, is exploring new friendships, strengthening the bond with some, loosening the bond with others. And though there have been some painful moments and some mis-steps, I think its all good.

I was thinking of this change in her life as we held our annual school work burning last night. We mark the end of the year with hope for the next. This year’s fire burned off some hard feelings and sadness and hopefully cleared the way for a joyous high school experience.

burning stories

Burning Stories - Two Writing Teachers blog

I saw the above headline in the email newsfeed and my mind went immediately to the annual bonfire . . . not the image the writer here had intended.

A few years ago, my girls and I decided to burn the school year. I can’t now remember the inspiration. Did we all have a difficult year? Was it the year Thea had that horrible teacher who tore her homework up in front of her because it had no name on it? Was it the year I was laid off? I don’t know exactly why we started it, but we continue it because it has felt like the right thing to do. We gather all the notebooks and folders and scattered papers from the year and slowly add them to the fire. And as we do, stories are passed around. “Oh, I loved this project. I got to work with my friends and we laughed all through Science class. Best week of science all year.” trailing into a series of silly anecdotes. “I HATE Skill Drills. I’m going to save these for when the flames are really big so it kills off all the yuck.” followed by a recount of the painful evenings spent completing this dread weekly homework. The girls and I slowly rehash the year, laughing at ourselves and at the absurdity of homework. Thea remembers when she completed the same assignments as her sister and they compare notes on how it went. And as she shares the work of her year she prepares Anya for what is to come.

As they go through the pile, the girls inevitably find some pieces they want to keep – the short story written in response to reading about the Holocaust, the poem that earned high praise from her peers, the history paper that took hours of research and writing, the doodles on the edge of the agenda book that are now turning into a scene in her latest story.  

There are two reasons I love the annual Burning.

First, the ritual feels like clearing out the old and preparing for the new. It’s the Ash Wednesday to our Lenten summer; the ceremonial start of the season of cleansing and renewal.

But also, I love this ritual for the stories released by the flames. Instead of just stamping “The End” on the school year, we write an epilogue that wraps up the storylines and brings meaning to the chaotic action, connecting the otherwise random work.