Where did you first learn that you could eat dandelions? Did you ever contemplate life without a sun? Did being in love with an extraterrestrial being ever seem like a very distinct possibility, just for a moment, or maybe you realized that you
were never really in Love at all?
Today is a mourning day. I took Ada to summer camp and for the second day in a row she refused to go. On my way home I made myself feel better by buying some flowers. That's how bad I felt. It was a conscious decision to make myself feel better by replacing something I thoughtfully assumed would be meaningful and fun for her by giving myself an outlet for creative juices to flow. In time she'll see how sustaining it is to create life from dirt, but also, she'll thank me for not forcing her by figuring that out all by herself. I'm no saint. I do mourn the money I spent on the summer camp and the possible growth she could have had. But it would be a far greater tragedy if I were to force her into something and rob her of the pleasure of discovering it herself.
But I mourn also today because a Great has moved on from this realm. I mourn for that time I could have listened to him lecture my first year in college, but didn't see the flyer until the next day. I mourn because I fear that my daughter might never discover his words.
He made me believe that I could make nonsense believable. He taught me at thirteen when everyone was going on about God and the Big Bang, that there was much more out there than any of it. He made me feel more alive, knowing that I could make worlds in my own head and bring them out onto paper for others to read and share. If any of this is not pure nonsense, you might know that today I mourn the passing of Ray Bradbury.
For Mr. Bradbury: Please know that you opened my eyes. You translated this world into a language I could understand and made understandable worlds that might never have been. I'll do my very best to make sure the next generation and the next and the next, is able to see the world through your eyes.
These flowers are for you.
If you read this post in silence, it's not too late. Click on the banner to the right and listen to a song shamelessly dedicated to Mr. Bradbury.
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| Fuschia |
But I mourn also today because a Great has moved on from this realm. I mourn for that time I could have listened to him lecture my first year in college, but didn't see the flyer until the next day. I mourn because I fear that my daughter might never discover his words.
 |
| Gaura |
He made me believe that I could make nonsense believable. He taught me at thirteen when everyone was going on about God and the Big Bang, that there was much more out there than any of it. He made me feel more alive, knowing that I could make worlds in my own head and bring them out onto paper for others to read and share. If any of this is not pure nonsense, you might know that today I mourn the passing of Ray Bradbury.
For Mr. Bradbury: Please know that you opened my eyes. You translated this world into a language I could understand and made understandable worlds that might never have been. I'll do my very best to make sure the next generation and the next and the next, is able to see the world through your eyes.
These flowers are for you.
If you read this post in silence, it's not too late. Click on the banner to the right and listen to a song shamelessly dedicated to Mr. Bradbury.
2 comments:
Again Andrea, you are awesome and you inspire me. Maybe someday I too will put my thoughts and feelings down on papeer
I love Ray Bradbury. I didn't know that he had passed... The flowers are a lovely gesture!
Madison is not wanting to go to camp for the Young Women program this year. I've been feeling the same way... I wish she'd go and have fun and break out of her shell a bit, but I won't MAKE her go.
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