My grandchildren live in consumer and tech societies on different continents and in four different U.S. states. Grandkids (blood and adoptive) don't look to me for calories. So, what is my task, if any, as their Amma (grandmother)?
When I read that Senator Manchin was backing out of the Build Back Better bill, my anger shot up faster than a rocket blasts into space. Tim reminds me that progress advances in fits and spurts. That in time, Americans will come together and invest in our children. Here is the thing, I don't want to be patient.
Today is a difficult period, but also a time of incredible promise. When the pain keeps coming, it's easy to believe it will never end, especially when we carry a three-pound brain that latches onto bad news and conspiracy theories. In the eighth-month of each pregnancy, my mind started whispering that walking around like a penguin for the rest of my days was my karma for previous lives’ misdeeds.
The ringtone, Twinkle, goes off on my phone. I recognize it as my youngest. Glancing at my phone screen, it's Wednesday, and it's 11:09 am. It means she's walked the two kids, Andrea (eight) and Kai (six), to school. Four words into the conversation, and I usually have a pretty good idea of how her day started. This time it took only one.
The art of living. When you see it, you recognize it. It’s the simplest of actions and the healthiest of emotions. It’s living in balance with the present. It’s an old man sitting on a bench tossing breadcrumbs to birds. It’s me as a child looking out my bedroom skylight to watch the stars, the Milky Way, and the Aurora Borealis. It is you, eating a tangerine one section at a time.