I Remember: Stationery Stores and Childhood Stickers

"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter."

–E. E. Cummings

I don't feel complete unless there is laughter and smiles in my day. Even on days when I'm feeling cranky, am unreasonable, and shout because my moods have taken the best from me, I can count on laughter setting me right.

A few days ago I wandered into a stationery store. I didn't wander aimless, though. I had a simple mission to buy a single postcard for hubby. I had told him that I had seen it when I was searching for other postcards. I described it to him and he said why didn't you get it for me? I shrugged my shoulders and told him that I wasn't sure if he'd actually want it. Now he has it.

Ever since childhood I've adored stationery stores. I remember when my mother would take me for tea and a sweet pastry after ice skating practice or one of her doctor's appointments. After seeking her permission, I would wander over to the stationary store just across the way. I would look through all the stickers, turning the stands in search of the perfect set. I collected them. I had a book full of wonderful stickers of all kinds: stickers that sparkled and glittered; puffy stickers; hearts, bears, flowers–all sorts. I don't remember her ever going into the store with me. I would run back and ask her if I could buy some stickers. She didn't give in right away. She might take a sip of her coffee, ask me if I really needed them, and she would end up pulling out a few dollars from her purse and hand it to me. I ran back as quick as I could and I would return giggly–happy to have new stickers.

There were other stationery stores too. It wasn't always stickers. Sometimes it was miniature calendars, pretty paper, pens. But always, she stayed outside in the car unless we were at that one breakfast shop where she could wait inside. She was dying, and as the cancer progressed, she was in pain more often; but as a little girl these realities register in the mind differently. 

I realize, too, that my mother didn't like being home, even if no one else was there. She preferred being out and about. As the cancer took its toll on her, these were some of the ways that we were able to spend time together, knowing that her life was drawing to a close. So, I see now that she not only needed me as her little rock, but that she also relished the last moments that we would share–and those moments I remember with the core of my being, with joy, and a hint of sadness. But what would life be without both?

She was serious and angry a good part of her later life, but right now in this moment, I can remember...I hear her laughter and see her smile, and it fills my soul with blue skies, sunshine, and the happy chatter of birds.

The Moon & Childhood Innocence

Last night as I was driving to class I was captivated by the moon. I couldn't take my eyes away. I've always been a moon gazer, and being ruled by the moon, I feel a special affinity with her. Sometimes the moon feels like a masculine being and other times, I feel her feminine presence. It's difficult for me to describe how beautiful she looked last night–a dainty slice curled into a translucent golden orb–framed, reflecting each other's light upon the space they shared–the whole and the part and the brightest star, a sweep away, held by the distant and dazzling moon.

**

On my way to class I started to re-listen to the audio book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain. I loved listening to the book the first time and felt that I was in the mood for a second go. Eventually, I will check the book out from the library because there are so many spots I'd like to re-read. Anyone that has any interest whatsoever in learning more about introverts and extroverts, will gain much from this well written and researched book. I don't like labels, but introvert is a label I am and can live with and am not at all ashamed of. 

My class was interesting partially because of the group activities we had, although, I was feeling overstimulated by the noise and didn't participate that much. When it was time for us to do one last thing, I decided I wanted to work alone, so everyone else was in groups, hurrying to copy each other's answers and trying to get done to get out of class. My partner asked me if I wanted to see his answers and I said that I would  pass and that it helped me to work through he material and search for the answers myself. 

I wasn't all alone though because one of the students brought her son with her and he was sitting in front of me. He had his lego figurines and book laid out of the table that he sat at. He had turned around earlier in the class and I smiled at him. At another occasion we were watching a video and when he turned and saw that I was writing notes, he flashed his light on my paper. I looked up at him. He said, "You shouldn't write in the dark." I told him thank you. He turned back around to his table. And and I was watching the movie, I was thinking what a sweet kid he was. I asked him later what grade he was in. He said 4th, so he must have been about 9 or 10. 

So while I sat there working through my glossary words alone, the boy turned around and started chatting with me. I gave him my attention. He said how he was looking forward to school tomorrow because he had band. I asked him what instrument he played and he said the chimes. I think it was the chimes, either the chimes or the bells. He asked I wanted him to show me the song he was working on and I said sure. It was short. He went through the motions with his hands, the first time calling out the notes, then he did it using his voice to make the sound of the bells/chimes. Anyway, I have to say I was more interested in hearing what he had to say than when I was working in the group and it was more my style: One-to-one communication. 

I can't remember the exact name of the song he was playing but it was French and it had to do with the moon. He said it in French and I tried to repeat it and he said, "That's right!" The last part of our conversation was priceless to me and brought me back to the simplicity and innocence of childhood:

"Did you see the moon?" I asked

"Yes, it was a quarter moon!"

"And did you see the sta..."

"The star! Yes! It was right across from it."

"It looked so beautiful."

My heart was so touched. Except for some children, writers, poets, nature lovers, how many students in the class would have truly seen the moon as this boy did? It was wonderful to share the moment with him and to know that he truly saw it and was just as touched.

We chatted some more and towards the end, he said to me, "You have a good attitude. I like you." I kept my eyes on his and said, "I like you too." There was a pause, then he said, "Friends?" And I affirmed his question and with the carefreeness and confidence of of childhood, I said, "Friends" and I smiled.

At some point in our conversation he told me I looked like I was about 12. I said, "Wow, really...Thanks."

I started packing up and we said our goodbyes. I wished him a fun band class and said good bye; he thanked me and said goodbye.

I walked to my car with a light step, and in some ways thinking, I've gotten to a point in my life, where children make more sense to me. I've always been in touch with my inner child, but there was just something that made me feel that I should be or belong amongst children...in reality I don't think it's in my cards, but that doesn't mean I can't make the most of the experiences that bring me in contact with children.

**

Sliver of a moon

you are especially dazzling

tonight. Orb glows sending

messages across the gap to a shining

star. Crisp air. I step out of the car

and Jacaranda, your scent arrests

my senses. I inhale your spicy tangerine

aroma that fills me with the feeling that I

am at the entrance to a great hearth

in the kingdom of...I reach out,

my fingers touch the handle–

I turn, ready to enter.

One of my Treasures

It feels good to be awake early this morning. The past few weeks I've wanted to continue sleeping; and I have, waking up later than usual.

Saturday has arrived bringing with it a calm and sense of relief.

I wanted to share a photo that I took about a month ago. It's one of those faces I was talking about yesterday. A nearby library that I enjoy visiting has a drive thru book return. I've gone through this book return countless times. On this day, a month back, I must have been in a slower mode, so that I could step back, see the book return from a different vantage point. I usually have to get out of my car because it's a long stretch to push the buttons and place the books on the belt that pulls the books through to their destination with other books, waiting for re-shelving. As I began getting out of the car, I saw a face looking back at me. I smiled, then I laughed. Finally, I had to take a photo.

One of the beauties in life is that simple moments like this can bring such unexpected joy.

As I look at the photo this morning, I realize that the face is a familiar one. One of my father's–my real father–used to build me beautiful creations out of wood. A cabinet maker by trade, he was a true craftsman and artist. Looking at this face, I remember a family of wooden dolls that he made for me. They were beautiful wooden blocks that he had cut, putting together a family, all with smiling faces, moveable arms and legs, and a rich coating of wood stain that brought out the beauty in the wood–a human family that brought me comfort and joy.

Whenever I smell sawdust or freshly cut wood, I think of him in his wood shop, creating.

I wish I still had those dolls. Even though they are gone, and he is gone, I remember the love that he put forth in all the creations that he built for me. I was able to keep and take one item with me, and it rests in my closet where I can see it. It's a small wooden treasure chest that my father built for me, where I store my special treasures.

 

Grab Bag

The past few mornings, I have delighted in the birdsong that I hear stream in through the slim opening of the bedroom window. It is music to my ears and spurs my body to smile all over.

Yesterday, I allowed myself one small indulgence. I was in the stationary store to see if they had any interesting postcards. As I have been in search of postcards lately, I am reminded of how scarce they actually are to come by, and when they are there to be found, they are often of the touristy type. I was pleasantly surprised to see several lovely and some wonderfully strange postcards.

But the postcards were not my one small indulgence, though I did end up buying three and they added to my purchase.

While I was browsing, my eyes were caught by a brown bag splashed with three dollops of color: pink and red. I circled around the small table and saw that what I was looking at were "grab bags" and the red and pink dollops were hearts. I was immediately transported to a time in my childhood when my mother would buy me grab bags from the Hello Kitty store. She had a friend that worked in one of the stores and she would ask her to make mine extra special. I looked forward to receiving the lovely bags filled with a variety of Hello Kitty trinkets, pens, lip gloss, and other goodies.

So when I saw this simple grab bag knowing it would contain a pad of paper, a pen, and stickers, I couldn't help myself. I've always enjoyed the surprise of opening up the bag; and even though I knew generally what would be inside, that didn't stop me and it didn't take away the feeling of allowing myself or rather still having that childlike wonder deep inside of me. I had to chuckle to myself as I read the sign near the bags that said, "good for ages 5 - 8." I suppose they could add: "and the young at heart."

Childhood Garden

I love children’s books and lately amongst the various other reading that I am nibbling away at, I am also weaving in several children’s picture books and books about children’s books.

One of the books I am currently reading is Everything I Need to Know I Learned from A Children’s Book: Life Lessons from Notable People from All Walks of Life edited by Anita Silvey. This is a wonderful collection of interviews turned into brief essays of leaders from various fields, accompanied by a photo of the chosen book, a summary, and an excerpt. I recognize some of the books from my childhood and jump for joy inside at having my memory jogged and remembering more books. And there are several books that I have not heard of before or have not read, which makes it like an adventure—in search for more worlds that I may have missed, that I can still return to.

This is an incredibly inspiring book that demonstrates the profound affect that books have on our young minds and how books continue to inspire and encourage us to pave our paths in life.

Here is a fantastic video published by the Library of Congress of Anita Silvey discussing her book. It provides additional insights and images of each of the chosen leaders she interviewed for her book.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNvKfZjDOV8

**

Childhood Garden

by Rebbecca Hill (Rebb)

 

I water the wildflowers that reside within my soul,

tend to those wild abundant gardens.

 

Flowers bloom,

petals dance and spring about,

 

for the spirit of childhood—

that magic palace of wonder and curiosity

will live on—it must.