October 31, 2011

Building Up the Temple

I'm publishing this post again after a recent convo on Twitter with my friend Heather.


My Mommal used to sing that to me, with the hand motions fist upon fist. I love when she does it with Ivy now. Grandmother hands shaky and beautiful.


Working hands

There's a windstorm coming. Our house crackles and the kids think squirrels got in our walls. I worry about the spider and her web on the front porch. I hope she can hang on.



Building up the temple




We go to a parade in my hometown on the fourth of July. And we always park on the same street in front of my cousins' grandmother's house. Then we pile up all our candy-catching bags and bottled waters and camp chairs and walk around the corner to find a good spot on the street to watch the parade.


And every year, the man that lives in the house on the corner ropes off his yard and the road on each side, and he sits cross-armed and brooding. He guards his grass and I guess the city street that might bring a car or festive passerby to walk too closely to his property.


We walk around the barrier and holding breath look at our feet, our hands firm with grip on the children, keeping them in line.


That man will train his eyes on the lawn, a piece of land that in months will be covered with leaves, and then dead under snow. That man will sit justified, and he will miss the parade.


We go on, every year, and we think huffy-judgy thoughts as he must the same of us.




Who do I want to be am I created to be in this life?


A man, guarding his lawn and missing out on the whole parade? His treasure, he can not take it with him.


A parade-goer that keeps her glance averted, moving along to her party without incident, pretending he's not there? Shuffle, avoid. Repeat as necessary.


Cast another character,


who meets his grump-eye and compliments his beautiful yard. Wishes him well, offers him a drink? A wave? A smile?


An even though you don't get me I'm going to try to understand your heart from now on nod?


I want to be that one next year.


And every moment until then.








I sweep ten times a day and yet


am still guaranteed a renegade crumb will stick to the bottom of my foot


every time.


originally published October 26, 2010.

4 comments:

  1. I love passing people like that- we always make sure to wave and yell a super loud, "Hello! Hope you have a fantastic day!"

    :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Can I be that person too? Maybe I'll start today...
    Beautiful post - I'm happy to have caught it this time around!

    Jody
    me[dot]jodyandjoy[at]gmail[dot]com

    ReplyDelete
  3. I remember this one. I'm glad you posted it again. So beautiful, still.

    ReplyDelete

Your comment is gonna totally make my day!

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