Thursday, March 26, 2009

A Woman's Skin

An excerpt from Meg Wolitzer's article, "My Identity, Lost and Found." Published in Real Simple, April 2008.


"I know now that all identities shed and gain cells continually--that it's a constant process of sloughing and collecting, not unlike the life cycle of skin. If I were the mother of a young child today, knowing what I know now, I would be confident that all identities--awe-filled teenage girl; independent woman in her 20s; anxious, love-besotted new mother--are astonishingly, mournfully brief."


Saturday, March 21, 2009

One year later

It has been one year since I blogged last. I would like to say that I had been waiting for this day particularly, but that is not true. I have been avoiding it for one year, but tonight, inextricably, I find myself back.

One year later, and one daughter later, and I find myself here again.

I have thought many times of writing in this blog, but I have turned away every time, excuse in hand. I don't have time. I don't have energy. I'm tired. Make that really, really tired. My brain doesn't seem to work as well. I'm not as philosophical anymore. I spend my time feeding my daughter one tiny piece of zucchini at a time for hours on end, or stacking up blocks so that she can knock them down. How can I possibly have time to write?

I can't make any promises. I have limited ambition, limited energy, limited time. To write that is, not to think. I have all of the time in the world to think, as I wash the dishes, fold the laundry, tuck one more piece of zucchini into that open mouth. Is it possible that I, Anne Bradstreet like, can sneak in a few lines despite all of the mouths to feed?

My heart is not proud, O LORD,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have stilled and quieted my soul;
like a weaned child with its mother,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.
O Israel, put your hope in the LORD
both now and forevermore.

Psalm 131