The Hazard Chronicles

On Turning Ten
Billy Collins

The whole idea of it makes me feel like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. 
I bleed.

This poem has been coming back to me time and time again lately. I'm not sure when I first came across it. Maybe a year ago...ish...in a literature class I was in? I'm not sure. But something about it has managed to lodge itself in my mind, like a catchy song almost, and it just won't let go.

Maybe it seems so relevant because I have noticed in recent years that my voice has changed. 

No, not that voice. Those awkward years are far behind me. 

The voice I am thinking of is the one that shows through in my journals, or my blog. It reminds me of the author E.B. White- one of my childhood favorites. And although Charlotte's Web and Stuart Little are fun to read, the story that first comes to mind when I think of this author is "The Door," a short piece I first encountered in 2004. What is so striking about "The Door" is how different it is from his classic children's books. It's more serious. Introspective. Timeworn.

How is it that the same man can, at once, describe a world full of magical talking animals where everyone lives happily ever after, and then turn again to write of animals driven to insanity by the absurdity of life itself? Furthermore, which of these two worlds is a better representation of his reality? Could it be both? What drove him to write one or the other?

I don't know these answers. What I do know is that somehow he was able to write eloquently from both perspectives, and in such articulate terms that he must, somewhere in his being, have been aware of the paradox he presented to his readers.

...And now I am rambling and I don't really know where I'm going with this. I'm going to let it stay though, and maybe sort it all out a few years down the road.

Also, I realize I am no E.B. White or Billy Collins with my writing. I also realize that my tone, as of late, has been more serious. I'm not as playful as I once was. I don't make myself laugh as much. And I'm really not sure why. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing...just an observation.

Maybe I'm in a "ten-year-old" stage of life right now.

*****

Well, that was a somber beginning to a blog, wasn't it? Sorry 'bout that.

Actually, this week I did feel a little bit like a ten-year-old again (a real ten-year-old). On Friday, sort of on a whim, we decided to go camping. I got home from work and Rachel had the car packed and ready. 

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Camping"

"Any idea where"

"The mountains"

"Okay"

So we drove to the mountains, not really sure of our destination, but confident that things would work out.

We ended up stumbling upon a splendid campground that we hadn't known about before. It was a lot of fun. The best part for me was the early-morning fairy hunt I went on in the forest with the three oldest kids. The second best part was Lindsey falling asleep by herself. It was a great weekend.

Woodland royalty

Maren's "caterpillar plant" 

This thing looks like coral. BTW, Evelyn has taken to calling me "fun guy," because that's what you call a dad who finds cool looking mushrooms with his kids. Get it?

This is what the ground looked like everywhere except for at the camp site- a perfect carpet of moss. It was pretty neat.

Success!

Here's a few other notable events from our week:

I went on a date with Lindsey. She's getting so big! Also, she is nearly potty trained. That means that after nine-and-a-half years, we will finally be a diaper-free household. Woo-hoo!

Maren officially "graduated" from Pre-School. She is sad about not being able to go anymore. She's been going here for two years and will be the first to tell you how much she'll miss her friends and teachers. At the same time, she really excited about kindergarten. 

Remember this car? We still have it. At least we did until today. Last night, Rachel and I spent hours cleaning it out, and today Rach worked some sort of magic and sold it at a profit. I promise the transaction was honest.

Evelyn got to sing at church (blue dress, front and center). I am also in the picture with the electric guitar. She did an awesome job.

Have a good week!