A Thought on my 9th Birthday

Last July in this space one of my precocious grand daughters, Heidi, wrote about unrest in the world. 
This week on her 9th birthday, she penned some more reflections expressing her feelings.  They appear below.  If you wonder where Heidi gets her idealism, please read the second article by her mother - Glenn N. Holliman, aka Grand Dad

Sweaters
by Heidi Jahn

We were at Michael's craft store shopping for my birthday.  When we got there I pulled my grand mommy all the way to the yarn section.  She asked why are we in the yarn section.  I said because I want to make sweaters for homeless people.

And she said, "Well, the soft yarn is $10.00 each."  I said I will save up for it.

Then we went over to the art supplies where she and I searched for art.  All I could think about was making those sweaters.  One day I hope I can and I should never give up.  One should never give up on your hopes and dreams.

Impermanence 

by Grace Holliman

I don’t recall why I hated hiking in the woods with my mom when I was a teenager. Maybe it was because she made me go on hikes. Maybe it was because hiking made her happy and I found my mom very annoying when she was happy. Or maybe I hated hiking because I was a teenager and hated everything.

For the record, I’m now forty-two and love hiking in the woods. I love the gradual uphill climbs, the switchbacks, the navigation of streams while holding my dog’s leash and hoping she doesn’t pull me into the chilly water. I love the views, the mountain laurel, wildflowers and mossy banks. I love the dirt on my legs, the sweat on my back, the song of the birds, and I’m even fascinated by the snakes that cross my path. 

All of these things scream to me, “you’re alive” while whispering, “impermanence” at the same time.

It’s a cool, April morning in Stuart, Virginia. I’m sitting on the porch of Cabin 23 in Fairy Stone State Park. I’m in a rocking chair, sipping hot, black coffee, as the sun rises and steals the fog from the lake in front of me. My daughters, ages eight and eleven, are with me. It’s their spring break from school and at the last minute I rented a cabin for two nights at a state park four hours southwest of our home in Richmond.

Holly, the 11 year old, paddles a canoe

At first my eleven year old balked at the idea of renting a cabin in the woods. “There won’t be anything to do there,” she whined. “Why can’t we go to Florida? I don’t want to just go hiking. I hate hiking.”

“I understand,” I said. I find myself saying that a lot lately, “I understand.” When my eight year old comes to me in the middle of the night because she’s worried about death; her death, my death, her father’s death, I tell her I understand. I could be aggravated by her waking me up over a ridiculous fear, but I’m not, not too much anyway. 

Fear is not ridiculous in the middle of the night when you are eight years old. We sit with fear for a moment and talk about death. The moment passes. We use the bathroom, get a sip of water, kiss the dog goodnight and tuck back into bed. Impermanence.

My mom wasn’t able to join us at the cabin this year. Her husband has had some recent health concerns and she needed to stay home. I know she is thinking of us. I know she would like to be here. Her love is here. Her love of hiking. Her love of uphill climbs, switchbacks, mountain laurel, wildflowers, and mossy banks. Her love of dirt on her legs and sweat on her back -I won’t include snakes, she doesn’t love them, but everything else is here with me and my daughters.

Grace and Heidi on Heidi's 9th birthday

As for my eleven year old who said going to the cabin would be boring, I told her that we would hunt for Fairy Stones once we got there. Fairy Stones are special rock formations that one can seek out in a designated area near the park. I showed her a few Fairy Stones I had collected when I went to the park fifteen years ago. She liked the stones. She liked the idea of going to the cabin for spring break. Impermanence.

Grace Holliman

April, 2017