scattered light + anchored souls
a glance down from up on my bed
cream shaggy rug on
honey colored wooden floors
fallen pillow in a white pillow case
inside out jeans
grey crumpled up shirt
Thomas the Train snow hat
half chewed dog bone
pack of crayons from a restaurant kids meals
worn in slippers
nail polish and two huge plastic action-figure-toy-things. I don't know what you call them.
the other side of the room
Jeff's bike helmet. Because it rained today and he couldn't ride to work.
backpack and gym bag
Maggie on the corner of the bed
white undershirts and white socks tossed on the floor
things found scattered on the ground in my bedroom.
Hoping soon to be gathered, put in place, transformed into a collected calm
I went to the tag agency last week. Always overdue. Two car tags to renew. Is this your address he asks 4441.... "no we've moved." He looks at the information for Jeff's car, thinking it might contain the correct address. 2029.... "No, we've actually moved since then also." Then feeling nervous from his stern demeanor all the numbers and addresses scramble in my head, I tell him our new address, but then say "wait, no, that's wrong" and give him a different number. He gives me a funny look. Then he looks at my license, and tells me I need to get the address on that updated too. "Oh, thank you for letting me know." I genuinely appreciate the reminder, it's hard keeping up with details ! He tells me I was suppose to do it within 10 days of the move; it's past 10 months. Oh well. Better late than never.
Filling out the information to update the address on my licenses I wrote some information on the wrong lines. another funny look from a stranger who corrected me. an oops and a sorry on my part. a typical scattered mind moment.
Then I collect all the renewed and updated things to bring with me. tags and a license; gathered up to go.
going on week two of rainy gray February days.
t-ball practice canceled twice. But I thought it was a little early to start practice anyways. March seems like a good month to begin.
February a month to end; Winter's end here in Tulsa.
The fog is thick this morning. The bedroom floor remains uncollected-calm-clean; still scattered with things.
I bound up the stairs. Maggie follows and jumps on Oliver's bed.
"Morning Oliver." I open the blinds. Still thick heavy fog outside, a wet wooden fence, puddles in the street and mushy mud waiting for feet that might tread on the grass.
"It's wacky Wednesday" I say.
But still he's snoring with Maggie sniffing his face and trying to give him kisses.
20 minutes later we are out the door. One Ninja Turtle light-up shoe, one PJ Mask (a cartoon show) light up shoe on the other foot. Striped pajamas layered with nike shorts and a Darth Vader tank top, a monster snow hat with dinosaur scales sticking straight up and with big googley eyes.
It's Read Across America Week and many schools are celebrating both reading and the beloved children's author, Dr. Suess, in silly fun ways.
Yesterday was "wear a hat, but don't bring a cat" day.
Tangent. Oliver tells me after school yesterday he wants a cat named bumble bee. Hours later he tell his Dad he wants a rainbow colored cat named rainbow. Before that he told his Gigi he wanted 1000 dogs.
So I pull into the parking lot. And though the weather is damp and gray on this last day of February, I see kids and teachers in bright mixed not matched patterns. Knee high socks pulled over pant legs. Multiple pigtails sprouting off the tops of heads. Teachers in swirly multicolored bell-bottoms or leopard print rain boots. A kindergarten girl sporting cowboy boots and rabbit ears. It looks like a school full of free-spirits. whimsical + wild. Or like they are all a bit scattered-brained. Or like they are so anchored in love and therefore feel free to be unique + offbeat.
In my rearview mirror I see my four year old in his googly eyed monster hat with his own earth toned deep golden eyes and long lashes and I smile.
The teacher holds his hand and helps him jump to the curb.
"Bye Oliver, love you."
then to the teacher I say
"I like your pants!" She smiles back, laughs, and says "thank you."
in a million little ways
just taking time to notice and note the sacred + the ordinary