He will read the same books over and over again. He is so patient. He is so present. Wallace adores him.
Our dear neighbor Mike took us on an adventure to North Manitou Island, and it felt like traveling to another world. The Island is so close (we look out at it every time we go to the beach) yet so far away (accessible only to overnight campers by ferry or by private boat). North Manitou is part of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore and therefore undeveloped except for what remains of a village from over 50 years ago. Visiting was like being transported back in time. And the rock hunting was amazing! We spent hours on the island and when we got back on the boat it felt like hardly any time had passed at all.
I returned home so rejuvenated in body and soul: so humbled and awed by vast Lake Michigan and this incredibly beautiful land.
this afternoon at the table —
the table around which so much centers:
family meals, conversations,
stories, questions, projects, colors, abundance . . .
Our couch may be tattered
and our table may be worn,
but we are here living together
with our hearts open
and our eyes filled with wonder.
He calls this: “King!”
“It is play, not properness, that is the central artery, the core, the brain stem of creative life. The impulse to play is an instinct. No play, no creative life. Be good, no creative life. Sit still, no creative life.”
— “Woman Who Run with the Wolves” by Clarissa Pinkola Estes: Ballantine Books, 1992: p. 234.
We took a wrong turn on the way to the blueberry farm. The blueberries were mushy. Mosquitos swarmed us, especially little Wallace with his milky baby blood. I had dressed for an overcast morning not for full sun at noon. Our lunch was soggy and Wallace wet his pants.
But we were with Grandfather. And being with Grandfather makes everything better. Conversations with him during the long car ride there and back again made it all worthwhile.
(I still wish we had come home with a basket of better blueberries. . . )