Monday 25 July 2011

Wonderlust

My daughters are gobsmacked by new discoveries every day. Their gobsmackery is manifested on a sliding scale between pure delight and abject terror.

Grown-ups encounter new things far less frequently than children. But occasional moments of gobsmackery permeate the adult defences too.

Today I discovered these beauties at the farmer's market.

Stargazing.
Aren't they gorgeous? Like constellations of stars marauding as berries.

I've been staring at them all afternoon with a childish grin. They taste good - about how you would expect Cassiopeia to taste if Cassiopeia were made of albino currants and not stars.

Greengages, a fruit I only had the pleasure of meeting in recent years, had a similar initial effect on me. Greengages are such a counter-intuitive plum - they look for all the world like unripe apricots and taste like heaven.

Even more wonderful than greengages is Kid, Ana's imaginary friend who lives in her hand. As with so many wonderful characters in this world, I met Kid on a bus. Not a Greyhound on smoke break in Kansas City at 4am, but rather Ana's first red double-decker through the big smoke.

As we sat at the very top by the window and she told me repeatedly that we were going to London on the bus (we were in fact in London already, but she was impervious to this suggestion). Then, beaming delightedly, she extended her hand out to the window, shaped like a shadow puppet.

A kid's Kid. 
'Look Kid,' she said. 'Look at that! We're going to London, Kid!'

I love Kid. I ask to talk to him all the time, and if Ana is in a good mood she indulges me. She understands that one should respect the hand that feeds. You see, while Kid inhabits her right hand, Kid's Mama inhabits her left.

Today's currants made me recall two of my own favourite moments of adult wonder.

Ana, an abstract free-form scribbler of the Jackson Pollock school, recently sat down of her own accord and - with grown-up-like concentration - drew a discernible person on paper for the first time. 'Look Mama,' she said with authority, 'it's WALL-E.'

And indeed, there was no mistaking WALL-E. I was gobsmacked with delight.

WALL-E (and EVE).
Around the same time, Ali toddled over to the sliding glass door of our old house. She gazed up at the sky and pointed.

'Moon!' she whispered in pure delighted wonder. She'd never said the word before, identified any celestial bodies, or frankly appeared to have much interest in them.

Then she toddled off and began shouting at her blocks in spite of my best efforts to prologue the magic by sitting at the window and shouting 'MOON!' in that silly undignified fashion that only gobsmacked parent would do.

Both moments passed in a blink. The girls have forgotten. Till the currants today, I had forgotten too.

In fact, at this juncture any sensible reader might bang her head against the wall and demand to know why these mundane moments are worth remembering at all.

And my response to all this imaginary head-banging is this: because these were not isolated moments at all. Instead they were ripples from two monumentally wondrous moments. Twice in my life I have hovered over a newborn daughter, gazing in wonder at her perfect sleeping face for the first time.

It doesn't get more wonderful than that.

Of course birth is followed by years in the wilderness. No sooner does the midwife say 'Congratulations, it's a girl!' then you are rushed onto a waiting boat in the Thames and shipped off to years of hard labour with added ketchup in a Tasmanian penal colony.

Which is why savouring these moments of wonder is so important.

Parenthood is the act of jumping from sweet moment to sweet moment like a game of hop-scotch played over a lava field.

In fact life in general is a confusing cocktail of tragedy and wonder. Which is easy to remember on grim news weeks like this one. All that matters is loving the people we love. And making valiant efforts to love everybody else too.

34 comments:

  1. I have wonderlust too. My kids are fed up of me! ;)

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  2. Love it. It's so important to remember, and yet so easy to forget, all the little moments which make you draw a breath and feel so full of love. I need to honour them more xx

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  3. AlexanderResidence25 July 2011 at 20:17

    So heartwarmingly beautiful as always. Loved that magical journey you just took me on. Lovely firsts, lovely fruit and wish we had an imaginary friend rather than imaginary 'that rat' who doesn't talk.

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  4. So so beautiful Rachel (as usual) and you're so right that we need to savour these moments. Maybe not the "began shouting at her blocks" moments though ;)

    Your last paragraphs really bring it home. Thank you x

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  5. "hop-scotch played over a lava field" I love your words!

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  6. Savouring those wonderful moments makes it all worthwhile doesn't it! Watch out for those imaginary friends, cute they may be at first, but they often lead to no good (especially the hand variety!)! Emma :)

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  7. Beautiful. This will have me smiling all day.

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  8. It just doesn't get more wonderful than that, the gazing over the sleeping girl. Even though my girl is now ten, when I watch her sleep and I can still see her beautiful, peaceful baby face.

    Imaginary friends are just the best! Such wonder!

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  9. Beautiful moments like that happen so often, yet they pass us by so easily, thanks for reminding me to slow down to see the amazing things my kids do every ordinary day! Nat.

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  10. Frankie Parker26 July 2011 at 21:24

    Rachel, another wonderfully written piece and so true about loving the people we love...

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  11. Thanks FP - they wear us out but they make life worth living, eh?

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  12. Thanks Nat - I have to remind myself too, by writing them down and by drinking truckloads of coffee :)

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  13. What a wonderful image Marion - the ghost of a baby in the face of a sleeping ten-year old girl - something for me to look forward to with anticipatory wonder!

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  14. Thank you for stopping by - glad you could keep smiling through the sentimentality molasses of my writing!

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  15. Ah, thank you for the warning Emma, it all makes sense now, I will keep a close eye on Kid...

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  16. Why thanks lady! Hyperbole and melodrama run deep in my genetic material :)

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  17. Why thanks Heather - you are right about shouting at blocks - to be honest, these moments make me smack my head on the wall in frustration and swear under my breath, rather than savour with wonder ;)

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  18. Thank you Penny! That Rat sounds pretty cool - would love to meet him (her?), and communicate wholey through the medium of mime if necessary...

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  19. Thank you Lindsey! I reckon we honour them by just getting up in the morning and walking towards the crib instead of running far away! But these little moments are, I suppose, our reward for doing just that. If only the moments came with added wine and chocolate...

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  20. Bless - no shame in a little wonderlust here and there :)

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  21. AlexanderResidence27 July 2011 at 10:43

    You've inspired me to post about that rat x

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  22. Beautiful! I'm just having a beautiful moment as I read. Em is sitting on me almost dozing off, so warm and relaxed - it's just reminded me to have a gaze and a sniff of my lovely child who won't me me do it forever. x

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  23. Thanks lady! That sounds blissful. Enjoy the moment, and your lovely girl.

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  24. It is important to savour the moments, isn't it? Before you know it, they'll be all grown up. I am obsessed with moments. That's why I blog, so that I can write down and remember at lest some...

    Oh, and I want some of those berries!

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  25. Your writing is amazing/inspiring.
    I love this piece!

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  26. So lovely. It has been a really hard week, news wise, thanks for reminding me to smile at the beautiful moments!

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  27. Sending some virtual berries your way Tat :)

    My blogging motive too - brain like a sieve, mine, so I've got to write it all down.

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  28. You are too kind Audrey, thanks for stopping by :)

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  29. Thank you Adrienne, it has indeed been a hard week. We can't wait to see you :)

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  30. We have loads of these berries in Estonia, we just call them white currants. Delish indeed. Less sour than red currants.

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  31. Thanks for stopping by Mrs B! They are indeed like red currants but without the bite. Not many of these things around in NM, which would explain why I only discovered them this week :)

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  32. Sheer genius. Very moving!

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  33. I never knew the existence of greengages and now that I do, I will seek them out. I love your vivid description of them as "constellations of stars marauding as berries."

    I am in awe of your writing and the way you view the world. Life described as a confusing cocktail of tragedy and wonder...marvelously put.

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