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Seesaw blessings July 31, 2008

Posted by Keren Fite in Daily Blessings.
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We walk down to the swing
She raises her hands asking to be pick up and seated
When seated she happily holds the ropes
Moving her body forwards and backwards with the swing
I sing to her:

Seesaw Margery Daw
Mommy shall have a new master
She shall earn but a penny a day
Because she can’t work any faster

She sings to me:
Thee thaw dow
La la la la la dow

And the daily drudgery melts away

I sing to her:
Thee thaw dow
La la la la la dow

She giggles in her toddler’s deep belly laughter that makes the world go round

We sing together, as the swing moves up and down, our voices touch in a moment of joyful oblivion.
My neighbor peeps over the fence, semi-curious and half-bewildered. We laughingly acknowledge his presence, and I throw-in a humorous explanation: you see, we are in the midst of reinventing the rhyme. He smilingly replies: well, it seems you have a rhyme all to yourselves, and then leaves us to our swing and song.

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Roses August 5, 2006

Posted by Keren Fite in Daily Blessings.
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The roses in my garden are blooming under significant-other’s tender care. One-year-old comes to the flowers. She reaches out to tear the petals. I tell her: “no, love, not with your hands, with your nose… like this… smell”. I bend over towards the flowers, kneeling next to her, taking a deep breath. I smell three roses: white, blood-red and pink-orange. She is all smiles… laughing, she buries her little nose and face in the colorful petals… smelling noisily… happily… The sun is bright… the flowers seem shiny… I wonder whether white roses smell differently than blood-red or pink-orange…

When I get up, I notice a rose still nestling in the coolness of the shadows… not yet touched by the sun… it is sprinkled with due… kitsch image, only this one is real… round drops of moisture frozen on the petals… is this rose ‘real’?… I dare not touch it… the surreal spell might be broken…

The next day, I bid the rose good morning… the petals are burned by the sun… brownish at the edge… curling towards their death… Other roses are covered with due… the name of the grey-pink roses comes to mind: “rose-ashes”…

Tonight, as I rock one-year-old into sleep, my baby cuddles in my arms all warm and tender… she babbles sweet baby words that join into a melody… when I take her to bed a thought comes floating: is happiness a question? Happiness is.

[Originally written in August 2003]

Where Are You? August 5, 2005

Posted by Keren Fite in Daily Blessings.
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Took the kids from kindergarten. Three-year-old insisted we should go to the swings. Five-year-old wanted to go to his friend. I needed to get to the post-office before closing time to mail a letter, and pay a long overdue bill.
“How have I fallen? Where has my peace of mind gone to?”, the voices of silent horror shrieked in me.
“YOUR peace of mind?!”, the clown awoke in appalled jest.
“Where are you now? Right Now?”, asked the tender voice of mindfulness.

Talked to the kids. Explained necessities. Hugged and kissed… got some ice-cream to soften the trip to the post-office.

Letter mailed, bill paid, we made our choice of dinner at the mall. Among the hustle and bustle of people talking, shouting, laughing, shopping, I found a haven in the bounty of my noodles plate… the sheer joy of quenching hunger and thirst. Peace in the midst of the loud palace of mammon.

Sometimes my stomach gets the better of me.