Monday, October 11, 2010

Found pictures

Isla looking ever so much like her daddy. Was this child really ever in my house? I'm loving the one Cinderella shoe and princess dress hanging out of the closed trunk in the background. I'm wondering where the pumpkin is.

That's Boomer, a friend's dog. He's no longer with us now. I'm seeing yet another princess shoe, a frilly plastic one, the ones I like to throw out, in this shot.

Mom's eye view of Isla. She still has those crazy swirls on top of her head. It's as if three cows were licking her head at the same time. It makes for tricky hairdressing. I can still imagine the way her hair smelled and the way she stroked my side with her velvet paw when she was nursing. She's going to be 5 really, really soon.
Dancing in the soon-to-be loft in our then-unfinished barn which is now finished and filled with hay and very, very far away back in Vermont. Sniff.
The problem with being married to a photographer is he gets all the best shots, uploads them on his computer then doesn't remember to show them to me. But I went searching for a baby picture of anyone the other day and stumbled upon some really fun, nostalgia-inducing stuff.

And this is just Isla. There's so much more.

What strikes me the most is it's like looking at someone elses' life. Was that me? Is that us? Were we there? Is that our baby? My meadow? My sky?

The beauty of our home in Vermont bowls me over. Especially in the fall just before winter is about to settle in and rule over the land with a bitterly-gorgeous hand. Sometimes I think the whole point of our being here in France, aside from the amazing cultural experience, foreign language experience and pure adventure of it, is to make me realize, once and for all, just how lucky we are to have all this waiting for us back home.

God I hope the Dead heads living there don't burn it down.

Deep breaths

Long sighs






It's hard to believe, from looking at that precious face, by age four, this kid would have nothing but poop on her mind.


Kathleen Trail said...

Holy cripes, those pictures of sweet, pudgy little Isla make my uterus hurt. And the one of you dancing with her is so picturesque yet surreal. Kind of like you guys have a candy coating of light around you that won't let the moment melt in your hands....

Betsy said...

A candy coating of light around us that won't let the moment melt in our hands. I love that. It's true. Life is always sweeter on the other side of the pond. Good luck with that uterus... :)

Karin (an alien parisienne) said...

"What strikes me the most is it's like looking at someone elses' life. Was that me? Is that us? Were we there? Is that our baby? My meadow? My sky?"

One of my theme songs for life is the Talking Heads "Once in a Lifetime." These lines in particular:
You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
You may find yourself in another part of the world
You may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
You may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife
You may ask yourself: well... how did I get here?"

I read your words and thought of these ones... I ask myself those kind of questions a lot. All the time. It is very weird to run into old photos of a life past, and think about all the things that have come and gone.

I know I especially get nostalgic because it races by SO fast, too fast to really take it in and, here's one French word I really like to describe it: assumer, meaning to take it all in and make it a part of myself.

Those past times are gone. Pretty soon, we're going to look back on the times we are living in *now* with nostalgia, too.

Man, that deep pond that has the sweet other side, lol. Sometimes I want to kick it. Mostly I want to transcend it. It's hard that it takes such effort to be in the NOW, and realize I am living the nostalgia right this minute! :)

Betsy said...

"This is not my beautiful house. This is not my beautiful wife."
Same as it ever was.
What a great song. Thanks for reminding me. I need to find it and listen to it right now.
Isn't the chorus, "Letting the days go by?"

Seamingly Sarah said...

Oh man. Mine is only 2.5 and I can't imagine reaching 5. She's toddler enough that I still see baby sometimes. I don't want that to go away!

Emma said...

oh... that dear little face! I have trouble remembering what my kids looked like when they were babies, without the aid of photos, but i can remember, like you said, the way their hair smelled and feeling of those little scritchy fingers on my skin when i breastfed them. In the words of Brandi Carlile;
"everything lost can be found but your time..."

Eat. Live. Laugh. and sometimes shop! said...

Precious, fleeting moments. It all happens much too fast.