Today I keep hearing my Grandmom Jackie singing to me, with her bubbly sweet voice. No one sounds like Jackie, I still hear her so clearly.
In honor of my birthday, Jack and I gifted ourselves the morning and went to a nice breakfast, we took a few snap shots:
My mom sent me a birthday box in the mail and in it was an old children's book "The Velveteen Rabbit" - a copy I received on my 5th birthday (thank you Mrs. Delcarlino!).
I cracked it open and read a conversation between The Velveteen Rabbit, a new toy quickly forgotten on Christmas Day -- and the Skin Horse, the wisest toy in the nursery, tattered from age:
"What is REAL?" asked the Velveteen Rabbit one day.
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse, "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
So I've got another year under my belt and yes, I do feel more Real as I mark another year's passing. I feel deeper in my life. I'm getting to know myself better. And a lot of it has to do with love. Loving myself enough to take care of myself. Loving Jack more and more. Loving New York. Loving my friends and artists in arms. Loving my family and taking the time to visit with them and stay connected. And I'm creating work that is meaningful to me, that I'm willing give patience and perseverance, even when the clouds of doubt surround me.
And sure, some of that elasticity around my eyes is loosening. (You'll never see a grey hair, a girl's got her limits.) But I hope when I'm an old lady, singing a birthday song to my grandchild - my laugh lines will be deep. And my heart will be swollen and open and ready for more.
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