At Least There Was One

My days and nights are often spent reflecting upon the events of this past summer. More often than that, though, my thoughts are distracted by very active children, a growing to-do list and idle browsing at night and they soon wander into obscurity, never getting much further than inside my head. While I think a lot about our angel Elise, it is still something I am not sure I can write about.

Part of me thinks I should so that I can remember the moments and feelings we experienced, but I am afraid that I might trivialize those moments. So, I hold back. Writing about my earthly angels and, recently, about our trip (more to come, I promise!) seems much easier and comes more naturally. And still, I am not trying to put on a show at Disneyland, this just seems the way for me to do it right now. I hope that in the meantime I will not forget.

While I was in Hungary I finished Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley. I would like to write more about it some time and will start here with one of her many wise and mature lines (the girl was 19 when she wrote it!):

“Nothing is more painful to the human mind than, after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope and fear.”

This was my only self-portrait while in Hungary. I remember when Isabel was 18 months old I caught her standing on a tall ladder picking cherries from Grandma’s cherry tree just behind me in this picture. This time around, Isabel and Thomas grazed quite a bit, pretty much stripping all the grapes off the vines and picking apples that were not quite ready yet.

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