Our Nantucket "vacation" will be over in 2 days - and although I know we will be back again, it always hurts a little to leave this paradise. As I mentioned before I am without camera... and having fallen in love with my digital SLR last summer (literally, rediscovering some instant creative gratification) I have had to digest every visual moment that passes here in a different way. I'm constantly adding to a mental list of all of the things I would have taken a picture of: Penny's sweet face with birthday cupcake all over it, Ru and El twirling in their fancy twirly skirts in the grass, giant, frightening waves at Miacomet beach, tiny wet stones at low tide, drip castles on the sand bar, jellyfish and hermit crabs, my mom's 65th birthday cake and this lovely old funky house. We are headed for a big kitchen and 3 bedroom renovation here come September and I'm feeling kind of torn about it. This kitchen has been part of my summers for 28 years - and I can't tell you how many naughty shenanigans have taken place on the center island table. How many quarters were bounced... that circular burn from a bong... the tequila shot messes, etc.. If my camera were here I would do my best to record the nuances of our crowded old kitchen, the over-stocked and disorganized pantry that you have to duck into.
Maybe it's just me, maybe I've been one of those lucky few who gets to return year after year to the same fantasy place of our childhood. But now I get to share that nostalgia with my children and it makes me completely nutty and contemplative. I get THOUGHT HEAVY when I'm here. Sometimes I even think I hear my heart beating like a ticking clock as I lie on the beach (which nowadays lasts for 30 seconds before I have to rescue a baby from the perils of the ocean) and wonder how in the world did I not cherish every youthful, sensuous, gorgeous second on this island. I can see that the twins have fallen in love with Nantucket already. They tell me what smells yummy on the way to the beach (in all the right spots) and they obsess over the same toys and board games that I played with when I was little. They are consistently spoiled and given sweets by their doting, delicious and cozy grandmother. My mom packs the most excellent cooler full of food for the beach... napkins included.
But back to me being thought-heavy... ugh. It gets heavy! I keep wondering what the next step is for me and when I'm going to feel ready to get back into a creative career... and WHY I need to plan this out. I wish it would just unfold, but I'm finally certain that I am a bad planner, and if I could organize my thoughts for the future adequately then maybe, just maybe some day we could buy our own Nantucket cottage down the road. Maybe I could have an art show here one day. Maybe I could have a print studio and give print classes to kids for the summer. Maybe I could let go of being "a really good mom" as a profession.
I honestly cannot conceive of the balance and organization that it would take for a person like me to be a part-time working mom. It sounds spoiled, I know... most people have it way worse than I do... but I am owning up to my complete and total incapacity when it comes to pursuing my career. I have been enabled by my incredibly generous mother! That's the sad reality.
It feels both good and horribly embarrassing to say all of this.
So Damn you Nantucket for drawing overly sappy, introspective blog entries out of me. And Fuck You Nikon D40 for disappearing and making me write too much.
1 comment:
You're great. I miss the pics, but hooray for losing your camera so it makes you write more!
Is there much of an art scene in Norwich (that's where you are, right)? I assume it's not ultra cutting-edge since it's VT, but perhaps there is something... is it feasible to start small and get your feet wet with classes/groups/galleries/etc?
Why is it so bleeping hard to define ourselves? We deserve some breakthroughs, man.
P.S. I thoroughly enjoyed your pot vs. POT story. Heh heh.
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