We Were the First

As I typed the final words of my manuscript last night and reflected on a year spent outdoors, I couldn't help but see the connections between my daughter and I. She too has loved a wooded place, albeit bigger than the tiny pretend-woods in my back yard. She too has grappled with the tension of life, how we gain and lose in the same breath. My girl is only twelve, but already she speaks a language that breaks my heart...

"Woods"

We were the first
in the cool green woods
into ravine and over crest

into forgotten days, the best
days, rainy, sunny, those days were good
we were the first

into fort like high bird's nest
looking over wonderful lake we stood
into ravine and over crest

those days like shining bubble now burst
shimmering sunlight down it glowed
we were the first

drizzly spring green onion grass,
with wonderful times we were imbued
into ravine and over crest

ford gravel drive to the old forest
imaginative things we always did
we were the first

not looking outward, ignoring the west,
failed attempts at making food
into ravine and over crest

years ago this people was birthed
finding a hidden land of gold
we were the first

to find the chest
wild woods the treasure showed
into ravine and over crest

in the woods, it seemed we were guests
time went on and on it flowed
we were the first

a place to play, a place to rest
icy wind with sun is mellowed
into ravine and over crest

a yellow song, a strange soft test
a time sped up and time of slowed
we were the first

shining gardens by nature are hoed
the years long gone, the years arrest
over ravine and over crest

see the wild roses lest
you miss them, time away has strode
over ravine and over crest,
but we were the first.

— by Sara

Ginko tree photo, Granada, Spain, by L.L. Barkat.

Before it Was Gone

I turn the paper over and find this... musings on coming-of-age, loss, change. Somehow the very things she writes of in her own little world are the things of my world too. I swallow hard and my soul says to this twelve-year-old, "Yes, daughter, yes."

Here is what she wrote, in answer to the question someone put to her: What's the most important thing you learned this year? The woods she refers to are a place she has played with a certain set of friends for five years. Next year, the woods will still be there, but the friends won't be...

I learned that sometimes there isn't one answer I can
think of for this question. And I learned that Michaela
and Noah and Eli are not coming back next year (and
the rest will never come), and I learned that someday

I might want to go across the log and I learned that
you can't sun-cook with aluminum foil and an empty
orange juice bottle, wild mustard leaves, in the woods
and I learned that I keep trying to write about the

woods and I can't and I know even if we can go back
there with them it won't be the same. And I learned
that gardens and bridges and water catchers for plants
and building ziplines don't actually work or happen but

we do them anyway and I don't know why. Well, I do
actually, sort of. We do it because it's something to
do, but after we knew they weren't coming back it was
as if we were trying to do everything before it was gone

and I learned to teach cello and write villanelles and I
learned that sometimes answers are right in front of
you already and you just have to find them and I
learned that there are some things you can't stop...

even if you really, really want to.

Purple flower tree photo by L.L. Barkat. Poem by Sara. Used with permission.

Change the World in 5 Minutes?

Check out this very cool video.

Little people using small bits of time, to make big changes.

My kind of activism.


thanks to High Calling Blogs for the video tip off