Oy, I have had some technical difficulties this week. Thanks to my PC dying a slow death, I am now the proud owner of a new laptop. Thank you to my mom for wrangling the kids at Best Buy while I had a mild anxiety attack over spending money on technology and thank you to my brother for using his MacGyver skills to get the hard drive out of my old computer. I am finally back on track, let’s go.
When I was helping Milo get undressed in the locker room at swim class, I found no less than seven pens and pencils in his pocket. He said he needed them all. If you know us you know I’ve said that Milo is like Steve Martin in The Jerk, “all I need in life is….” He just tried to sleep with a leftover French fry container filled with markers.
Milo has all these notebooks, he typically has one on hand at all times. Little things like notebooks and pens and his sleeping mask my dad got for him on a flight to England are all ways that Milo can make home wherever he goes. Objects, no matter how simple help us to mark time, remind us of our people, and make us feel secure. Milo feels safe when he’s got his things. He knows exactly who gave him what,when, and for what reason and everything is special. Except that he had so much stuff in his hands getting in the car this afternoon that he fell on his head because he didn’t have a free hand to catch his fall. He said to us, “maybe I shouldn’t take so much stuff.” Good idea kiddo.
Jon and I have always dug finding special little things and Jon has collections of all sorts of stuff. Marbles and rusty junk are our favorites. Jon can look through the marbles and tell you what we were doing when we found each one. I like buttons, I used to love to go to my grandma’s and search through her button box to find a special little memento of our trip. In college I made 357 numbered clay buttons. Each time I gave one away, it was an acknowledgment that we are bound to each other by our experiences.
Each piece of art we’ve hung in our house has a special memory attached to it; our youth, our wedding, the birth of our kids. So all this art making is creating these daily objects that mark time. I spread them all out, 23 days of my life, our lives, and I could feel in each painting the tone of the day, the simple experiences, good and bad and I wanted to hold them all. But I won’t. In one week, my little babies will go into the world and fasten themselves to new people and make new little homes in the world. Potential fasteners, just like a great button.