Yesterday morning we were in South Georgia. Brian was teaching at a conference, so Eli and I were free to wander. Less than an hour away was a town I've been longing to explore as it might hold the key to my next book project. I packed Eli's backpack with snacks and warm clothes. I readied my camera and tripod. Soon we were rolling along Georgia back roads past morning fields, farms, and pine forests...
We arrived in the tiny old crumbling cotton town mid-morning. The wind was whistling, but the gray sky gave way to sunshine now and then. I told myself I'd play it by ear, see how long Eli was up for.
We wandered the sidewalks. As I clicked away, I told Eli what I was looking for and showed him some of the images on my camera screen. He helped point out places that looked "weally, weally old." (Some of them were definitely not, but it was fun to see "history" through a four year-old's eyes.) We soon discovered the train tracks on the edge of town, which captured Eli's imagination nicely. And when he was done gawking, he had a grand old time picking up discarded plastic bottles to recycle. (Yucky, but he did have on thick mittens.)
I can't quite express what a joy the morning was. I was glad that my hunch was right; the place has a story that I would love to tell. But sharing the search-and-discovery process with my boy was a whole new level of joy.
On the way back to meet up Brian, I remembered a letter I wrote to Eli in my journal back when I was two months pregnant with him (and he was still nicknamed after the English candy treats we'd enjoyed on our honeymoon a few months earlier). I'd been taking photographs that morning and feared motherhood might sideline my creativity for a while. I'll share the letter at the bottom of this post in case anybody is interested. And here are a few of the photos from Team Mama + Eli...
May 9, 2008 Friday morning
Dear Jelly Tot,
We had an adventure this morning! I looked out the window and saw how pretty the light was falling across the honeysuckle and the spring vines of the kudzu, so I set down the kettle I was filling with water and grabbed my camera instead. I filled a split-oak basket with some antique kitchen tools and went out the back gate. I need images for the website to promote my writing.
There’s such a pleasure in taking photographs; seeing the world framed and simplified. Getting lost in visual thought. I took pictures of an old milk pail rimmed in light below the arched stalks of weeds still sparkling with drops of last night’s rain.
“I won’t be able to do things like this anymore when the baby comes,” I thought. That was hard. But then I thought that if you were tiny, I could grab the baby monitor and work until you woke up. If you were awake, I might be able to squeeze in a few photos while you watched from a portable seat or playpen. I’m guessing if you were a toddler, it might truly be impossible – you wandering into the view, hollering to hold the very object I’m trying to photograph, or taking off in some dangerous direction the minute I look away. Dad will watch you so I can click a few pictures on a weekend morning, though. But when you get to be four or so, maybe I can show you what I’m doing and even let you try a shot with an inexpensive camera that I bring with me just for that purpose. And then at five you’ll be in school many mornings of the year so I can do solo work. Maybe then I’ll miss you “helping” and won’t be able to wait until lazy summers so we can have whole days again!
It takes a little while to make peace with the idea that my time won’t be my own for a while. But it was good for me this morning to think through ways I can continue to be creative and not completely give up my own pleasures or personal work. There are many tasks in life – at home, with a job, in a community. Many of them would go undone if we don’t do them, yet they could be done by someone else. Then there is personal work. This is the work you do from deep within – the creative and the psychological – that nobody can accomplish but you. Someone can take up your artist materials and tools, even follow your lead, but no one can actually make your statement or build understanding from your unspoken, complex thoughts. When anything delays personal work, it leads to frustration. As a writer, I seem to generate (and self-assign?) more personal work than a lot of people I know. That’s why staying at home is so deeply satisfying to me. My career in libraries and archives was rewarding, but after I while I realized I’d explored most of what interested me most in the field and learned what I needed to know to fuel future ventures. After that point, I was making the world a better place, but I was completing tasks that others could do and delaying my own personal work. Life is all about balance. It’s funny....
I’ve been rereading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books. Back then, children weren’t supposed to speak until spoken to at the supper table. At gatherings, they ate after the adults. They were expected to behave as adults in many ways – chores, sitting still in church, etc. With so much to do everyday, children were to be a help rather than a burden as early as possible. Right now, trends in parenting are almost the reverse. Kids get everything first and have very little asked of them. Parents are to sacrifice as deeply as possible to give their children everything they never had and everything their children’s peers may get. But there’s got to be a middle ground where kids learn to take their rightful place in life as they grow up – not at the top nor at the bottom, but as a member of the family and community who should contribute and who also has a say. They need to defer to the greater experience and maturity of the parent or other elders, especially when very young, but they should get a strong sense of balance.
Jelly Tot, while you are growing up, I want you to get what you need and to be aware that you’re getting what you need. Sometimes you should also get what you want. But it should be clear to you that your parents – like all those around you - are also people with lives and feelings, that they should get what they need and also sometimes what they want. I want you to grow up knowing that adult life should be balanced with enough creative flow to be satisfying no matter what ordinary tasks are also present.
I wish you a lifetime of joy, peace, creativity, and good balance!
--Your loving mama (to be)
