Wednesday, February 07, 2007

"It was like coming home..."

OK... so it's a cheesy line from Sleepless in Seattle, from when Tom Hanks describes to the crazy talk show lady what he felt was special about being with his wife.

There are several levels of thought running through my mind right now, but they all can somehow connect to this line. If I could do it in a blog entry, a web-style brainstorm graphic would work well here. Instead, you're going to get paragraphs or bullet points.

I just came home from seeing Andrew Greenberg play the lead in the school play at TPHS. He was hilarious. I got to go because Amy Fan e-mailed me about it, and Jen Yang raised her hand for me when she was counting how many tickets to hold. Yeah--they're my kids. Sure, I gave them up for "adoption" by Mia, but I gave them to a good home and we still get to visit each other.

This is the first time going back to TPHS didn't fill me with too much trepidation--of course there's always a little bit of anticipation, and I took my usual route up the back stairs by my classroom and through the quad to the Theatre, but I felt content instead of painfully regretful or nervous. It was more like the way I feel when I visit my actual high school or college campus, the ones from which I graduated--like I did some good there while I was there, and now they're doing just fine without me. Life goes on... but you can still come home and visit, you just can't move in and have everything back the way it was. And you don't really want that either--sure, there might be a certain nostalgia that confuses matters, but for the most part, people need to keep moving forward.

The other thought I had today was about parenting. I talked with a friend of mine who has college-age kids, and I saw all the kids I used to teach, and I talked to my parents. The combination of the three experiences showed me childhood in three perspectives. (My sleep meds are kicking in--this might get a little sloppy, but I want to get it down.) I saw a mother who wanted to shelter her grown children, children who wanted to become independent of their parents' shelters, and a direct interaction between the two. What came to mind to help me be a good daughter, or at least a more understanding one, was that very short experience I had as a mother. All I wanted to do was protect my child. I would have given anything to keep it safe and comfortable and healthy. I think that as children, no matter how old we become, we need to try to remember and respect that our parents' intention is rooted in that desire to nurture their baby--so no matter how annoying or overbearing they may seem, we should be gracious in the way we deal with their offerings. They mean well, and they're the home we can always come home to. (to which we can always return... blah, blah, blah).

OK. I think I'm finally going to get a good night's sleep, so I'm outta here.

Oh, and about the writing group--I just still think it's cool when someone asks me to read a draft or final draft of anything. So send stuff my way, I'll send stuff to you (you who have expressed interest) and there we'll have it. I'm about ready to send something off to a magazine, so that's what got me to missing being in the company of writers...

love and kisses to all! :)

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