Two gifts: silence and wings
My mother gave me two amazing gifts for my birthday.
After our fabulous waffle brunch, she took the kid swimming, and loaned me a Steven King novel. Brain candy. Pure and utter brain candy. I settled into my couch in front of the fireplace and read. For hours.
I think it’s been at least seven or eight months since I’ve done that. My home was utterly devoid of the litany of a child’s needs, wants, questions, curiosities, hurts, dreams and desires. I played some classical music — light, airy Dvorak, not serious Beethoven — and read. I heard myself for the first time in months. For my birthday, my mother gave me a precious, all-too-rare gift: silence.
She also gave me a bicycle. Friday evening I said goodbye to my office mates at some downtown pub and walked out into the summer evening sunshine. There she leaned, waiting patiently for me, my new love, my heart’s joy, this silent-rolling glimmer of alloy and rims, tires and wires, waiting to spirit me away. My knee-length dress, black and polka dot and a dream of dancing, behaved prim and proper for the gently descending zigzag down to the National Gallery of Art, where Friday nights are given over to Jazz, and Picnics, and a sense of utter freedom that only a night like that can provide. Riding a bike is an artistic endeavor, in that it transports me to another place, and leaves me full of wordless joy. Sitting with friends and enjoying the music, watching the crowd, was a balm on my soul.
When I finally left it was going on full dark, and so I rode the sidewalks home. I haven’t been on a bike in six or seven years, and that one was a miserable, cranky thing full of skipping gears and the frame too short for my body length. I hated riding bikes back then. This sweet thing that winged me home last night fairly coasted up the hills and made me laugh out loud. I am a long way to restoring my soul with these two gifts from my most amazing mother: silence, and wings.
Tags: carving out time for yourself, love, sanity, single-mom, single-mother
7 opinions for Two gifts: silence and wings
Jennifer
May 31, 2008 at 10:28 pm
Happy birthday! And that was a great gift you got.
How did you like Duma Key? I recognized the cover and I just finished reading it too.
christina
May 31, 2008 at 10:39 pm
Thank you, Jennifer! I had a good birthday, considering how it started out…
I liked Duma Key. King lost me for a while, but these characters were solid and real to me, and while I thought it petered out in the end, and some ideas he had been advancing the entire book–like his phantom arm– were never connected and tied up at the end… I liked it.
worker bee
May 31, 2008 at 11:34 pm
there was some sort of magic in the air at the garden. everyone, listening, happy. even the weather was buzzing. i hope to go again with you before the swamp comes.
Suzanne B. (Crunchy Green Mom)
Jun 1, 2008 at 8:55 am
Now I’m jealous! My silence is sleep… which is rudely shatter by a 5 month old who thinks 6:30am is wake up time. She’s currently on the floor making sure I understand that she has vocal cords, that she is priming for the real thing. She just likes to yell.. *sighs*.. It’s gonna be a long couple of years :)
I’m glad you found the bliss of a good book and the unmatched honor of coasting through life with coordination, and a great set of wheels!
Have a good day!
Jennifer
Jun 1, 2008 at 5:47 pm
You’re welcome.
I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who thought that about the book as well, but the characters were interesting and solid.
christina
Jun 1, 2008 at 10:04 pm
LOL Suzanne. I don’t get sleep or silence. Insomnia has me in its grip right now. And the kid? Well, let us put it this way: he had a substitute teacher last week. when my mom picked the kid up at the end of the day, the teacher looked at her and said, “He didn’t stop talking all day.” My mom smiled. “I know.” The teacher tried again: “No, you don’t understand. He talked. all. day.” My mother smiled and patted her on the arm. “Oh yes. I KNOW.”
christina
Jun 1, 2008 at 10:04 pm
Hey, busy little bee. it was so good to meet some of your friends. Your beau will be happy you’re being well cared for when he’s out and away.
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