The trees are ready for winter

A few years ago (I can’t believe I can start a post about my children that begins with, “a few years ago.” Really? Have I been a mother more than a few years?), during a Nor’easter (is that the right way to spell it? This type of weather seems new to me although we’ve been in the Mid-Atlantic longer than we’ve lived in South Bend…another fact that doesn’t seem to register with me as South Bend and Notre Dame have left such an imprint on me, as though they are home), I took my girls out to get to one of Hadley’s ballet classes.  Hadley, who insisted on NOT wearing sweatpants or her jacket over her pink tights, pink leotard, and pink tutu, rushed outside and stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk, orange, yellow, and red leaves surrounded her and she looked like a pink firecracker against the colors of fall.

“MAMA!” she said with urgency, “Look at the trees! They’re ready for winter!”  She spoke as though the wind did the trees a favor and I loved her perspective on the day even though I was so, so tired with Harper on my hip, and not having yet showered, and not knowing when I would shower, or sleep, or go to the bathroom with the door closed ever again.  I loved that she defined the day this way and I am sorry I was too exhausted to share that with you in this space years ago.  But I did write it down in a journal: “Hadley in ballet attire on a windy day – ‘the trees are ready for winter.'” That’s what I do when I can’t write yet – just jot things down.  I hope they’ll become stories later.

But last night, during the hurricane, while the girls and I were coloring together, Hadley looked outside and said it again, “Mama,” (I love that she calls me Mama – where’d she learn that?) “Look! The trees are ready for winter!”

She was three when she first said it and now she is six and she said it again and I don’t know how she remembered but I love that she said it in the same tone: as if Hurricane Sandy did the trees a favor and now we can be ready for winter.

I want to tell you about Hurricane Sandy but my problem as a writer – as a person, really – is that I can’t share with you things that happened recently.  My stories take time to simmer.

But I would like to share a story with you.  One that’s been simmering inside since I was six and left a scar in the shape of a backwards “C” on my right knee.  I wrote it down and the essay  got published and I’d love for you to read it.

Until then, I think Hadley is looking for snow to fall.