Appetite

Some people say their biggest fear in growing older is becoming like their mother. I think for me, it would be my biggest fear not to. I would be the antithesis of productivity, passion and virtue. Yesterday as I was wandering around in our little garden, picking produce and feeling my personal satisfaction grow with each brightly colored veggie that made it into the bundle in my shirt, I suddenly felt like my mom; and it felt good.

This past weekend my sister Sarah, her husband James and their four boys all came up to Canyonlands to stay with us. It was stimulating. The energy, the conversation, the activity, the movement, the lizard in the house, the smiling face an inch from mine at 6:30 am, the food, the feet, the laughter, the crying and the fun. Life has so many seasons. It felt like summer in full bloom both inside the house and out. With the addition of one red mini-van, our sterile NPS compound was suddenly a diverse neighborhood teaming with life.

Speaking of seasons, there is a change in the air. It's almost as if the desert knows its September. The air is crisper and sharper, the temperature cooler and the itch to grow pumpkins and sharpen pencils is overwhelming. I want to learn something. I want to discover something that's not outside. I feel like studying cadavers or writing research papers. I want to build furniture or braid a rug. My muscles have been used frequently this summer, but my mind feels neglected. I want to create something. I'm feeling less well-rounded than I used to, but our limited space and constant state of flux makes acquiring anything bigger than my fist a burden.