Magic

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.” ~Roald Dahl

Life has become quite busy and I am already sensing the prospect of an increasingly neglected blog.  I hate that.  (A strong word, but true.)  This arena is such a creative outlet for me, a necessary outlet, but sometimes life creates its own agendas.  My intent is to stay awatch "with glittering eyes" and to somehow translate the findings onto page as time allows.  Besides, it will provide an apt respite from the theories and research connected to my professional and academic lives.  I have decided that busy-ness is my favorite brand of craziness.  I will simply go with the flow.

Things That Made Me Smile Recently 

• Sweet Mrs. Plassmeyer, our 82 year-old reading buddy, wearing a perfect pair of lilac espadrilles.  One is never too old for style.
• The excitement from a friend who enjoyed the gifted book.  *sigh*
• The purchase of school supplies...a laptop, textbooks, a parking tag.  It's the feeling of moving forward ~ not the costs ~ that excite me.
• Daughter Number One's return from college, now a sophomore.  Incredible.  And now she prepares to leave again, this time with a passport. 
• My five year-old's statement that she was having a bad hair day, followed by her profession that her doll was a control freak.  Again, she is five.  Hmmm.
• Spiedini Giovanni.  And good company.  Perfection.

Forgetfulness

~Billy Collins

The name of the author is the first to go

followed obediently by the title, the plot

the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel

which suddenly becomes one you have never read,

never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor

decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,

to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye

and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,

and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,

the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,

it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,

not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river

whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,

well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those

who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night

to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.

No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted

out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

 Glittering eyes.  Magic.  Remembrance.  xo, ~S.