It has been a terrible week. The kind that made every muscle in my neck hurt, made getting out of bed difficult. There were fleece pajamas and warmth there, but outside that, a sea of chaos.
Let's not get into the details of these days, and instead fast forward to the good parts. Picking Nate up early, surprising him with milkshakes. Taking him to his school open house. Sitting in the bleachers listening to the band play "The Star Spangled Banner," their first time ever. We walked classroom to classroom, seeing the foam core science projects, tasting chocolate rolls made by the Spanish teacher, building marshmallow and toothpick sculptures.
In the library I feel most at home, any library. I walked past the magazines, the rows of books, drawn to the colorful tubs of Duplo blocks. Each plastic piece had a word on it, and the tub marked with its part of speech. Delight. So I sat down and started making sentences.
It felt good to pull the words apart and to reorder them in such a basic way. Words with no expectations. So I probably looked like a crazy person sitting in a tiny chair while the kids came and sat and left.
"It's a haiku," said a fellow parent who stood behind me. I started counting syllables in my head, an instinct to know the rules and to make the corrections. Correct, correct, correct. But instead I kept quiet and kept sorting through the bins.
Some words were added, like "bent," and "fragile." I stared at the blocks, thought about it, and tossed them back. They were part of my story but not the finished product.
You can always reorder your Legos.