reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: time flies


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wistful. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

i cannot help it. memories swoosh around me constantly. and these days are no different. in fact, they deliver memories much like santa scooooching down the chimney – sans fanfare or warning. the memories arrive, sometimes with a kerplunk.

i suppose that it is simply a part of me to be wistful. and…the days are darker, the sun is shorter, it is colder and the holidays began to arrive in rapid succession.

i prepare myself for this – i know that time has flown on and that everything is different. yet…there is this piece of me that yearns to go back…to be overwhelmed with all that was going on when my children were little – the time of year that was fraught with choir and band rehearsals prepping, the time of year when it was hard to find alone-time to shop for surprises, the time of year when the children were counting down to school vacation, the time of year when end-of-year business records were lurking on lists-of-things-to-do, when you wrapped presents – that had been hidden in closets and the attic – around the the table in the wee hours, the time of year when you just really wanted to make cookies and fudge and sip hot cocoa around the fire with your children, reading christmas books, watching holiday movies. dreamy.

and then, there’s the further-back…the days in my growing-up neighborhood – along with our neighbors and friends outside caroling. luminaria, my dad making spiked eggnog and my mom fussing with cooking, the grandparents lingering on our old slipcovered couch, nieces and my nephew tiny and enchanted with it all.

it all seemed so innocent back then. and easy.

it’s not as easy now – as i watch families sort through all the gala preparations and the calendar of when who-visits-whom. there is much to do and, seemingly, not as much time to do it all. it makes me wish for a really big close-proximity-family with whom to share it all, all together, everyone from every side.

we prepare for our own christmas. i’ve been thinking and brainstorming and researching and googling and making lists for weeks now. we’ve been out browsing and shopping, we’ve had a moment or two indulging in a treat while out. we’ve encountered wonderful, joyous shopowners and salesclerks and a few not-so-wonderful nor joyous folks. we’ve tried hard to bring light to each person.

very happily, the boys will be coming and we are excited. but we will miss our girl and her husband. so many of us will have a facetime christmas and, though i am grateful for that technological ability, my heart – as always – yearns for in-person. so much bittersweet-ness. but…i am reminded by my own words earlier this week…“even if…enough”. it’s a good time for me to practice the enoughs.

i wonder – if it were possible – what it would be like to live back then and now simultaneously…kind of like walking from one room – the right now – into the next room – where my children were tiny ecstatic toddlers – into the next room – where i was a teenager surrounded by my island family – into the next room – where i was little and watched for rudolph’s red nose out my window.

i guess the gift of not being able to do that is the same as the hard part of not being able to do that – it is the wistfulness of it all. i guess wistful IS the gift. that thing that reminds you – just like in the movie about time to really, really live the day. “I just try to live every day as if I’ve deliberately come back to this one day, to enjoy it, as if it was the full final day of my extraordinary, ordinary life.”

*****

…and, by the way…just in case you misunderstood – in this climate rife with words like great and back – misused and twisted…as you are reading the words “go back in time”…i want to be perfectly clear…even in a post about these holidays…it’ s not THAT kind of going back. this is a post about love and respect for each other. it’s a post about time spent together and mutual generosity of spirit. it’s a post about decency. goodness. it’s a post about unity. together. it’s not that OTHER kind of going back. because we aren’t. going back.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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one caesura after another. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

the big chalkboard wall was in the basement for decades. and for decades it was signed and scribbled on by my children and their friends-through-the-years. there have been moments – in more recent years – the empty nest years – when i would hit the cement floor at the bottom of the steps, flip on the spotlights and stare at the colored-chalk names scrawled on the wall. lots of history there.

before i took the eraser to this wall, before i washed it off, before i realized the colored chalk didn’t really erase or wash off nomatterwhat, before i prepped it for paint, i took many photographs. once again, my thready heart is challenged – but photographs help.

my girl chalked this design in one of the corners – during the skateboard/dickies/vans era. the memory flood is fast and furious and i stood – touching the chalkboard and its names and illustrations – for some time before wiping it and readying it for a fresh coat. in the end, we put together new shelving for that spot adjacent to david’s studio and now it houses inspiring books of artists and musings…easy access for him, for both of us.

as i’ve written, there are many more of these woven threads in our home to unravel, to gently place aside, to memorize. but – inasmuch as it is a challenge, it is also a gift. because so many things are things we no longer notice, things to which we pay little attention. and right now…right now, we are paying rapt attention to each detail.

we are each telling stories of thethingsinthebox or ontheshelf or tuckedaway or rightthereinfrontofus. some of it makes me a little bit sad – no, i guess it’s more wistful than sad. some of it makes me try to think backbackback to the days backbackback. some of it makes me wish i could revisit those days, live them again, relish them in real time, or maybe live them a little slower or a little differently. and some of it just gives me a little standstill, like a tiny caesura – all part of the diapause, i suppose – one caesura after another.

we keep going. my curiosity is piqued as we open closets and bins, page through children’s books finding scraps of crayoned notes or pictures. i store it all inside, knowing that – even though i will likely forget some of it – it is all there – layers of memories and moments.

and the chalked diamonds will forever remain on the wall of the basement. because they were there, they are there. and they are part of it.

*****

IT’S A LONG STORY © 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

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watermelon time. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

dogga adores watermelon. he also adores blueberries and carrots. he’s a big fan of any kind of chip, cracker or cheese. really, any dog-safe morsel of people food – except bananas – are in his taste-treat wheelhouse. he finds us easy to convince – those eyes of his – complete amber eye-to-eye contact.

back in the day, when i lived in florida, you could find watermelon at many rural corners, much like boiled peanut stands – a pick-up truck with a bed filled with watermelons fresh off the vine for buyers to choose from. i remember breaking open melons, sticky sweet, a tiny bit cooler than the air temperature. these last few days here in wisconsin remind me of those hot summer days down south, with nights that don’t cool down and humidity lingering so much in the air you can see it. chilled watermelon helps.

in the olden days (as my poppo used to refer back) watermelons had seeds. lots of them. you’d stand out back on the patio or on the deck spitting pits over the railing – contests of whose would gain the most ground. now, we are lucky – seedless watermelons have changed life, like seedless mandarins. no more contests over the deck rail, but so much easier to eat. ahh, the end of the folksy tradition of the watermelon-seed-spit. probably not a big loss.

dogga will accept any treat he is offered. he clearly trusts that we will keep his well-being and his people-food tastes in mind, so when i cut up the watermelon the other day into bite-sized pieces, he was right there, by my side, waiting. it’s his summer too.

but time doesn’t stand still. we simply cannot believe that it is labor day weekend already. the summer flew by. and soon, a bit later on, we will be barreling through fall. it’ll be time for apple-picking and pumpkins, jeans and boots and vests. part of me yearns for that – autumn – my favorite time of year.

but watermelon is plentiful right now, and, so, our moments will include dabbing our napkins on our watermelon-slice-sticky faces in the middle of these hot summer days, these days of intense heat.

dogga doesn’t seem to have yearnings for later-on. somehow he knows that any time at all is too precious to waste. his wisdom is in his absolute presence. whether it is watermelon time or apple time or cranberry time or blueberry time…it doesn’t matter. he is just there – appreciating all the wanna-bites of the season.

so in the middle of winter – when it’s frigid outside and we humans are wishing for a little warmth while dogga is relishing the piles of snow – we may summon up these days in the sun. hopefully, even in our baselayers, wool socks and down coats, we might taste the summer we – hopefully – memorized. we might close our eyes and remember the sweetness of cold watermelon.

or, because this world is what it is and we are fortunate beyond belief to be able to purchase produce from nations and places far and wide, we may buy a watermelon – in the cold of winter – from the grocery store. we’ll take out the big carving knife and the cutting board and slice it into triangles, with great anticipation. and we’ll take a bite of the top of the triangle, easily the best bite of all melon bites.

and we’ll be back – standing in the hot sun, with sticky hands. because watermelon has that power. even without seeds.

*****

GOOD MOMENTS: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=WbiKiz1NZYs

(copyright 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood)

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tailfeathers. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“in rivers, the water you touch is the last of which has passed and the first of that which comes: so it is with time present.” (leonardo da vinci)

fluid.

never static.

this is something we rarely remember. this is something we often forget.

evanescent, filmy, gossamer-winged time. showing up. disappearing.

too little to waste, too fragile to fritter away.

we reach to hold onto the tailfeathers of the river and keep flying.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

at the john denver sanctuary – aspen, colorado

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the spirit with us. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

you can feel it.

there is a spirit in this place – the john denver sanctuary in aspen. it is palpable.

we go there – specifically – to feel it.

because it feels like the past, the present and the future all at once and – here – it all wraps around your heart.

we are both john denver fans. not the ridiculous push-to-the-front-of-the-crowd-for-a-signature type. just the quiet, eternally-grateful type. he has inspired us. he has inspired me. he made the simple melodic gesture a visceral thing. he elevated folksy messaging and storytelling; he reinforced the beauty of a lack of adornment. simplicity.

and when we stand in this beautiful place – designed to honor him, his composing and songwriting, his vision of the world – we are standing in and with his spirit. and you can feel it.

we slowly walkabout, arm in arm. we hum the songs chiseled into granite boulders. we stand immersed, pondering, in front of quotes of john muir and leonardo da vinci and helen keller and rachel carson and jacques cousteau.

we seek out annie’s song.

and we can feel it. the spirit in this place.

we feel at home here.

we stroll away and take it with us, carrying it in-between the times we stand there.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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love more now. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

there are a lot of reasons to zoom through days, to forget about what is really important, to perseverate on things that make us unhappy, things that worry us, things that cause us to push others away, to not take time with others, not give time to others. much of the time we can convince ourselves – somehow – that those reasons are impeccable, that they matter. we can get ourselves all riled up and full of the shadow side of relationships and daily life. and then something wakes us up, takes us out of the dark.

it could be something really inconsequential, seemingly unimportant. the notice of a bird on the wing, the sunrise, dandelion seeds in the wind, a strain of music, a scent. it could be something way bigger – something that brings a sense of mortality, that brings you to a full stop and makes you realize that time is – indeed – passing by and that the moment that has slipped past is never again retrievable.

and suddenly we realize that they are all like that. all the moments.

irretrievable.

and love taps us on the shoulder and reminds us. to take the time, to give the time. to be aware of the things we want to do, the simple stuff that feeds us, the people we love and who love us. it reminds us that there is no time to waste – really, ever – no matter where in life we are. it reminds us we are not all-that and we don’t do this life alone. it reminds us it is flying by and by and more love is the only thing that will last and last – forever.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB ©️2024 kerrianddavid.com

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our wagawag. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

and soon, he’ll be eleven.

his shadow on the wall has kept us company – each morning – with the east sun streaming in through the window – reflecting his perch on our bed, the furry top of his head tousled by many good-morning pets.

time has flown by and his muzzle is grey. he is slower at evening’s end, retiring earlier and earlier – maybe a little bit like us. he groans a bit, getting his body moving. but his amber eyes…they are the same. they belie the time that has escaped our noticing. the aussie puppy is still in there.

while d is setting up coffee for the next morning and i am turning down covers and getting ready for sleep, dogga is laying on the bed. there’s a routine. in these quiet moments i sit next to him and we talk. he loves belly-bellies so it is without question that is part of the conversation. there are times – as he looks up – that i am struck by his very being, this dog who trusts us for everything. what a responsibility we all have with these furry family members. what a privilege i feel…the experience of dogs and a cat who love me or have loved me like i love them.

but i am floored by the time. and i realize that in the way i have less time ahead of me than behind me, so does our sweetboy. we – the people in this equation – both tear up anytime we even allude to this, even in the vaguest of ways. but dogdog doesn’t. he just holds a steady gaze, wags his tail, spins and gives kisses, sneezes when we ask and opens his mouth in a silent “love you” when we say “i love you” to him. his amber eyes reflect back his life with us.

and so – now – he goes on more errands with us. he gets even more pets. he has chicken breast with rice and peas and carrots for dinner. we keep him close.

because like really anyone – two-legged or four – we are whirling through space faster than ever – and there is never enough time to be together, to share life, to love each other.

our old wagawag reminds me of this every single day.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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there is love. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it is a ritual. the dandy dandelions show up and i instantly become the mother of toddlers. oh, those very, very precious times.

it is wondrous to me that i still receive notes about this song – fistful of dandelions.

my children are both in their thirties now. life as a mom has changed dramatically…but only from a practical day-to-day point of view. the heart stuff is the same. it never changes.

a friend wrote to me, wondering if she could turn her mother-emotions down a bit now that her child was an adult.

i wrote back it doesn’t get any easier. motherhood is both the joy and grief. it is the fierce loving, protecting, worrying, cheering on…forever and ever. it is the backing up. it is the letting go. it is trusting that – in both the bliss and the pain – the connection exists, there is love.

“all the riches i will need today…”

*****

FISTFUL OF DANDELIONS ©️ 1999 kerri sherwood

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in fields of flowers. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

and soon, the world around us will explode with flowers. and spring ephemerals will rise out of thawing ground. crocus follow on the heels of earliest rising snowdrops. and then daffodils and tulips and maybe even hyacinths sneak into view. skunk cabbage joins the fray of the dance and trilliums send up their periscope stalks. jack-in-the-pulpit stands righteously in the savanna underbrush, sharing energy with jill-in-the-pulpit. and the mayapples…those mayapples wait to burst their canopy umbrellas up, protecting their delicate white blossoms. all together, it is a community of the transitory, sharing space. all thorns are set aside to regale the world with beauty.

george told us on the trail that many, many – most, he ventured to guess – do not look about as they hike. he said that it is rare to see someone stop on the trail to really notice, to pay attention, to ponder. he was pleased to see us – two strangers – standing and photographing.

for us, it is most-of-the-time impossible to hike and not pay notice. but, i can tell you, it is very difficult to hike – and really, truly pay attention – if there is something heavy on our hearts. i would think it impossible to hike – and wander in the fields of flowers – if there are thorns in your heart.

as far as i know, thorns in your heart may preclude your seeing of any beauty at all. they may predispose you, color your view, cloud your eyes to what-really-is, ruin any chance of you experiencing the ephemerally blissful moments of this life.

because – in terms of this world, this universe – we are really more like spring flowers than any other. we emerge and are quickly fading. we are gifted with ever so little time.

and, just like we are like spring flowers, we are also unlike spring flowers. we are not perennials. this moment – now – is our chance…to grow and bud and bloom.

how much better to wander in fields of flowers – of beauty – than to squander time and languish in thorns.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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the tease of time. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

i am writing this on the next day. the day after spring. it is now winter again. the seasons are getting shorter and shorter these days. i’m wondering if that is a product of age and stage, as 20 says.

mostly, it convinces us that we need to have a sense of humor. about all things. even the weather.

we sit writing this – snow outside – windows closed – heat on (though not much because i am a curmudgeon about the heat). yesterday we sat writing – birds and sunshine outside – windows open – heat off. it is off again, on again. the tease of time.

tomorrow it is march. and suddenly, i am in the month of my 65th birthday. i am in the month of medicare. i am in the month of the supplement vs the advantage plan. i am in the month of part d. i am in the month of whoa!!

and i wonder – where did the time go? wasn’t it spring yesterday? wasn’t it summer and delicious fall? how is it that i glance in the mirror and an almost-65 stares back?

it truly is the tease of time. the seasons are getting shorter and shorter. and – more and more – my investment in them is getting bigger and bigger – each individual day in each individual week in each individual month in each individual year.

the next day is all well and good. but it’s today that matters right now.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

DANCING IN THE FRONT YARD 24″x24″

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