artista

What once was a church in the center of a medium sized city, in this large state of our huge country, we four sit.  

Without turning my head at all, I can, in my mind clearly see their faces perched on top of rigid postured, stiff shoulders - one on either side of me.  He is not having it, she's lost in thought, concerned about something, but not something I could likely imagine.   And the smallest of us set upon my lap, for lack of an empty chair, whispers that he's hungry.   I point out that there is no eating in this auditorium as I fish from my purse a crumpled, well traveled package of Nutter Butters and open it for him.  
We are all contradictions, much as I strive to be the answer to the question of us, I am, I must admit, only part of our unsolvable equation.  

Just 11 years old and we are pressing the question; "What do you want to be when you grow up?"   Remarkable thing is, she actually knows the answer.   Confidence doesn't mean you're outgoing, nor necessarily that you are comfortable in crowds.  It doesn't mean you'll make eye contact or speak when spoken to.   It doesn't mean you have friends and dine at a crowded lunch table.   It doesn't mean that you'll try to be funny like your mother or stoic like your father nor smile all the time like your brother.  
It means that you know who you are inside, despite what you display on the outside.

Art  school tour

In private she expresses her concerns about her own artistic ability.  I tell her that she's truly "more then capable, but that if for any reason this place feels like it's too much,  we can make other choices".   "Lovely choices" I assure her.     She wants this, she really does and she's sure.  This is what could make her happy but no one would believe it, because she's barely looked around, not cracked even a half smile.  She's mopey and slow to move.   She is awkward in public today and it winds me up like a twister.   Where she is flat, I'm bubbly.   When she's quite, I'll speak.  She looks down, I turn up, she recoils, I shift forward, she ignores, I adopt.   
Compensation personified.  

I want to shield her from the not so nice things in this life, just as I am certain that I can't and also positive that she can endure more then even I could, ever.  

About all the things I wonder, she doesn't question.   Where I'm open, she's impenetrable.   What I wait for, she's passed.   Everything that pushes me, pulls me, tears me - she is numb to.  
Compensation personified.

I have never been able to see my future, try as I might, I couldn't picture it or my place in the years ahead - until just today, focused on where she'll go, I saw it.  
I saw myself with her and so now I know and I feel it ... my life will be long.


"All the art of living lies in the fine mingling of letting go and holding on".  H. Ellis