A Memory

Elizabeth and I were in the theater, watching Little Women, the version with Susan Sarandon and Winona Ryder.













Since the movie came out in 1994, that means that Elizabeth was six, barely old enough to sit through a feature length movie.   Perhaps we had read Little Women together by then, or I had forgotten how sad it was that Beth dies young.  The costumes and the sets and the family feeling, and Kirsten Dunst as a silly vain sister were all winning us over.  Claire Danes played a saintly Beth, pure of heart.  Kindly Mr. Lawrence surprises her with the gift of his piano, and Beth comes down from her sickbed to receive it on Christmas day.  She plays and everyone gathered around the piano sings "Deck the Halls."   It is a very moving scene in the movie.  Mr. Lawrence reveals that the piano belonged to his little girl who died.  We know those of us who have read the novel, that Beth is not long for this world.  Tears stream down my face just thinking of it.

As I sat in the dark theater, moved to tears, I heard the sound of Elizabeth's voice joining those on screen as she sang Deck the Halls.  She showed no self consciousness as she sang out the words so recently learned.  She had become part of the movie by singing along, and I felt proud of her. 

After a Death by Tomas Transtromer



After a Death
by Tomas Tranströmer
translated by Robert Bly

Once there was a shock
that left behind a long, shimmering comet tail.
It keeps us inside. It makes the TV pictures snowy.
It settles in cold drops on the telephone wires.

One can still go slowly on skis in the winter sun
through brush where a few leaves hang on.
They resemble pages torn from old telephone directories.
Names swallowed by the cold.

It is still beautiful to hear the heart beat
but often the shadow seems more real than the body.
The samurai looks insignificant
beside his armor of black dragon scales.

Ruth Orkin


In honor of the summer days when reading was all Elizabeth did, here is a photo by Ruth Orkin.
i carry your heart with me (e.e. cummings)

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

I just received this poem from Claire who is always remembering me and how hard it is sometimes to face each day.
Thank you, Claire. You are very kind.
Patty

Mother's Day


When Elizabeth was born, my heart burst open to take her in.  Amazing how this happens to new mothers.  Where there was no one before, suddenly, there was a baby deserving of all of your love and care and future planning.  As she grew she was independent from the beginning, wanting to do things on her own, yet coming back home to the safe embrace of her parents. 

I still have cards that say: Good for three free hugs.

It is an honor to be her mother.
I miss you.

I sit and I wonder when the next time I can see you will be. It won't be during the summer with lazy days on the Delaware or at Leonard's house for a barbeque we both used to feel too cool to be at. It won't be in the winter upstate in Syracuse sledding down treacherous terrain, shopping for bargain lotion at Target, playing video games until our thumbs hurt. Although it won't happen anytime soon, I see you everyday. Mostly through little things, the sparkle on a river, a kind old man, a book, my camera, a warm and gentle breeze. Sometimes the signs are goose bump causing incredible. The world keeps moving and so do you. You were too fascinated with it to stop. Instead of moving on, I am moving with... With your spirit and inspiration and love. I love you always and you will be forever with me.

Sorry for the improper sentence structures. Thoughts from my head to paper.

Lively

Even when she was inside of me, she kicked and squirmed and made her presence felt as a person who needed to be moving.

When she was six months old, we got her a walker, one of those bumper cars for infants which allowed her restless feet to move her about the floor.  Back then the walkers didn't have any toys attached, and the wheels were big.  Because it made so much noise, R. put down a layer of foamcore on the floor hoping to reduce the racket to the downstairs neighbors.  She would rattle around and visit us in the kitchen, the bedroom, pushing off with her strong feet and legs.



Next came the Johnny Jump up which we hung from the sprinkler pipes.  This let her have the joy of flight,  bouncing straight up toward the ceiling. 

The minute she could walk she could run. The minute she could run, she wanted to learn how to roller skate, how to roller blade, how to jump rope.  The skip it toy let her skip before she learned how to hold the handles of the rope to loop over her head.



She was an expert at tag.  Her friends loved to run with her in the park.  She loved to swing on the swings in the park.

Later, she would walk everywhere in the city in her beat up sneakers.  Her feet took her places I could not follow.





Complete set of Shakespeare

The Narrowsburg Library has purchased a complete set of Shakespeare with funds in Elizabeth's name. They will display it in the library as the "Elizabeth Aakre Shakespeare Collection."

Dear Elizabeth

It is finally winter today, with the temperature 23 degrees at 8 AM.  The cats are sleeping. Richard is sleeping.  It is Sunday morning, very quiet. 
You should know that the neighborhood has changed a bit.

The empty spaces, including the parking lot around the corner, the old restaurant called Dennises, have been filled in with luxury apartments.  The place above Teddy's is now an 8 floor luxury apartment building.  ON Tuesday nights we can see the poker game that takes place directly across from your bedroom.  We can also see a large picture of a woman's face that is hung in their living room.  I don't know if it is of someone personal to that household, or just a modern picture of a woman looking a bit dazed, a bit too gigantic for comfort in a space closed in, but we get to see her perfectly from 30 yards away.

Every year without you we continue, bereft, humbled, to live.

Wore your boots

Wore your boots today,and your parka. It was our first snow of the winter this year. Sidewalks are slippery, there is slush in the curb cuts.  Your parka has a hood which prevents the wind from slicing into my face flesh.  Your boots are lined, so even though they are rubber they are warm.  Temperature today was in the 20s.  Your dad and I went to see a movie, a documentary about a high class erotic dancing show in Paris called Crazy Horse. 

I thought all of these women who dance in the show are just the age you would be now, or a bit younger. Perfect specimens.  But the women are more like prize animals in a country fair, whose perfect buttocks make them uniformly boring.  How can you distinguish one from the other?

You were unique. You were our one and only.  Thank God for that.

Love,

Mom

How Dina Aunty relished her memories. Mummy and Daddy were the same, talking about their yesterdays and smiling in that sad-happy way while selecting each picture, each frame from the past, examining it lovingly before it vanished again in the mist. But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be re-created—not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.

> From A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry