Puddle Jumps

I always ask my kindergartners to brainstorm why a brainstorm is called a brainstorm.  Right now, under the “blog” category in my brain, there is a Superstorm of ideas.  In the spirit of Ty Louis Campbell (check out the Muddy Puddles project on my link), I am going to go out and play in the storm for the first time in ten days.  Just splash around in each puddle a bit.

I could blog about how I am so busy that I no longer have time to blog.  How I am taking odd jobs for extra money, collecting proof that I need financial assistance, gathering evidence to prove I am an ‘Effective” teacher, being an effective teacher, trying to be an effective family member, friend, wife, general contractor, and advocate, and trying to enjoy the regular yearly proliferation of spring celebrations shared by all of us.

But instead, I will blog, and try to remember everything over the last ten days that made me say, “I should write about that.”

-I got a massage in Massapequa.  (Thank you to all of you who have helped us out with a Visa gift card—they came from so many of you, and I was sending out grateful vibes with every brutal assault on my trapezius!  For a week, I had attempted to function with a vice grip on my eyes, jaw, neck, and hips.  For so many months, I have not been able to “splurge” on the massage I once deemed necessary to live.  I mean, live in italics—not actually stay alive, but still.)  While driving in Massapequa I thought about how much of my life happened in that town—and my!  How life has changed.  In 1993 I was there as a salesgirl at Merry-Go-Round and a waitress for Pizzeria Uno and in love with a boy who lived in Ohio.  In 2003 I was there oohing and aahing and crying over the wedding dress with my mom.  Who thought I’d be there in 2013 trying to get a storm massaged out of my system?

-Then that got me thinking about timelines.  My life has a seven-year itch!   Every seven years is a complete reconstruction.  Seven years before the storm, my mother’s AVM burst, exploding our normal.  Go back seven more and you find us selling all our belongings, preparing to move to St. Croix—and this was exactly seven years past the summer that one of my vacation romances really rocked me once and for all.

-Before Sandy, my world had only been rocked three times:  on that beach in 1992, and by my mother’s death and 9/11.   This past Friday, the spire went up on One World Trade.  From Long Beach, we can almost reach out and touch the silvery spirit of the ultimate comeback.

-The very next day, the stairs to our new loft left the ground and chased upward toward the sky to celebrate!


-All lanes have reopened on Ocean Parkway!  And the Long Beach boardwalk is being built.  Two of my most beloved passages.

-Why did the sheer beauty of this Mother’s Day make me cry nonstop for two hours?  Sheer beauty sometimes makes me cry, but especially since the storm.  Is it because I understand its fleeting nature and have met its fickle foe?   Maybe the sun-sparkle and strong winds reminded me of each extreme, and wanting my mother to share both with me made it smart all the more. The tossing of the sprightly spring green of trees made me cry today.  And the roadside puddles reflecting blue sky and rippling with the wind-whipped air, so that a skipping series of glimmers rode toward me across each.  I cried alongside gulls pulled on cables of wind across a span of bridge as I sped toward home.

In the words of my song with my mother, “It’s been a long, hard, lonely winter.”   This spring I welcome growth everywhere—flowers, staircases, spires.  Perhaps in a couple of days I’ll explore some of these topics and grow this journal of mine….


2 responses to “Puddle Jumps

  1. “stairs” “loft”–wow, good going Jenn!!
    Always love reading your blog. Realize that I should tell you that.

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