So I’m after spending a very secluded and difficult month, and now it is time to re-learn socializing and time management and working out and studying and volunteering and job-hunting. I still feel as though I’m behind, or as though this night that I spend playing and looking at pictures will come back to haunt me when the deadline hits.
Things like too much time in a cafe with two lovely girlfriends lead to meltdowns; things like a new toy that won’t function to perfection lead to inadequate anger and much banging of items (but not the toy, it is much too precious). Basically, I’m three years old all over again – and as if it’s never been any other way. Amazing, what a month can do.
However, I feel like writing is a skill I need to cultivate, and it’s getting pretty rusty. So despite all the damage even this detached sort of human contact may inflict on tomorrow’s schedule, my emotional stability, et cetera, let me just jot this down before I forget.
My father is returning tomorrow from a month spent in Israel where he had the privilege of being the first Lithuanian relative to meet my very new nephew. Our first conversation on the subject went as follows:
Me: So dad, did you get to see the baby?
Dad: Yes. HE IS SO TINY!
Me: Oh. So what did he do?
Dad: Ate, slept, pooped, made faces. WAS TINY.
Me: Uh huh, so I gather you liked him?
Dad: TINY. SO. SO. TINY.
(Also tiny: my scores for this term’s exams, my patience with the dentist, my music collection, and the letters on a 12″ screen – but that is a whole other story.)
The more I think about it, the more I realize that this is the main thing that happened to us this winter. That little handsome boy being born. My cousin becoming a mother for the first time. Our family spreading on to the fourth symultaneous generation. The rest is just weather and minor ethereal vibrations… or something. Don’t expect me to use smart words, I didn’t read a single book this whole month!