It is Enough

I have been doing some reflecting recently about who I am and what I can and cannot do with my life.  I suppose it happens to a lot of women my age, then again the longer I am here on this earth the more I realize how utterly different each of us experience our piece of the world.  I suppose the introvert in me will always pause in thought, others think by talking and some are just wise from the time they were created.  

I jokingly told one of my coworkers to never turn 50 because instead of getting an annual physical and maybe scheduling a mammogram you walk out of the office with a packet of procedures that need to be completed. 

I was wrong though about never turning 50.  50, 51, and 52 just like every single other year are a gift that some of my friends never got to see.  I hope they are watching because there are some cool things I get to see.  

I get to watch a friend's daughter who at 14 performs ballet and circus shows.  She has grace and elegance even as she grows, plus she can do the splits which frankly has always perplexed me when anyone does them - I never could.  

I also get to experience that change that happens when she went from feeling comforted by having adults around to being completely annoyed with any question or request an adult might have of her.  And especially annoying is when her Mom asks her to do something - sheesh.   

When she was too young to walk, I got to watch her sitting atop her Imah's- Naomi's shoulders holding Naomi's head with tiny slender hands they would race around the house together and the giggles and belly laugh that came from the tiny girl would light up the whole house.    The sparkle and joy of Naomi was passed from mother to daughter in those early days.   Naomi was an internal medicine doctor.  Her work was stressful for her and it was stressful work sometimes.  The joy Naomi found in that simple game was about the most endearing quality I could imagine.  I have mentioned before that I think Naomi was surprised at how much she loved being a parent.  I think she was surprised at how little with a child could be enough.

While sometimes fleeting in a teenage way,  that joy still lights up in this girl and now, honestly I cannot help but laugh too when she laughs until she cries - because she is so tired everything is funny, or screams and grins as she rides her bike down a steep hill on a mountain bike trail headed right at me or does some crazy thrill ride with Kristin and the two of them are screaming and giggling at the same time.    

I can't control things for her I couldn't stop her Imah from leaving the physical world - I am not officially accountable to my friend's daughter - not physically related, not a god parent, but her Moms invited me into their house and their daughter's life.  I got to be part of their family from a place of grace. 

I will watch over and tell her about that light and do what I can to keep that view of silliness alive for her - it was what I saw between them.  There are other things other people saw that they will help her with but it is that piece that I hope never leaves her.  It  was pure goodness in the world.  It is good to be 52 and know her and her younger sister.  It is exactly enough. 

My roommate from Antarctica, Ellen.  She started Green Peace in Minnesota after college.  She moved to Montana and started an herb farm before it was hip.  She sold herbs to local restaurants and worked very hard but eventually sold the business.  She had an on and off again boyfriend and a dog she adored, a little black lab mix that would go everywhere and didn't need a leash because he never strayed from her side - a real friend.  Some days I miss her and what she was to me even though we knew each other less than a year.

In a huge expansive continent that was not always welcoming to humans she and I could be assigned to the most ridiculous jobs and somehow get the work done but laugh the whole time.  We worked outside.  We were both General Assistants (GA's).  Basically the bottom of the labor crew.  We were sent wherever help was needed.  It might not sound like fun but seriously we could make fun out of just about anything.  And being at the bottom of the labor crew was not a pressure job if you know what I mean.

One day our boss pulled us up to a row of old wannagans that were basically leveled.  Wannagans are basically single room huts that are portable.  These were likely brought in from some nearby location because they had lasted as long as they could and needed to be pulled apart and put on the ship at the end of the season to be sent back to New Zealand or the US for disposal. 

In Antarctica resources become very valuable.  I don't mean money - I mean things like wood, nails,metal.  Waste was pretty limited.  There were literally 14 categories of recycling.  The wannagans needed to be broken down so that what was recyclable was taken to the appropriate location for handling and reuse.  The rest readied for the ship. 

We were given the GA truck and told to have at it.  Ugh - not a wrap up in a package and be done with it kind of job.  We worked 10 hours a day so we started busying ourselves pretty quickly.  Boredom or lack of motion when you are outside are not really helpful.  So we started pulling things out and sorting - 2X4's, removing the nails, metal sheets, insulation, mattresses, old boots,  etc...it was quite monotonous.  Eventually what was left of walls were gone and it was only a floor.  Ellen decided it was a stage and we should be making a musical out of the event.  The rest of the day we could be seen dancing singing and tearing a part the wannagans.  You know when your mind is not taxed you can actually make up lyrics to well known songs pretty spontaneously while your hands are busy.

I can tell you that nothing elegant happens in the carharts, bunny boots and parkas that are worn there - but it was somehow such a lovely graceful way to appreciate that we were in a place very few people will touch, working with someone you like, looking at Mt Erebus smoking away, and the McMurdo sound and the Royal Society Mountains and having no where to go but where we were, nothing to do but what we were doing, dinner was being prepared for us, and when dinner was over we could go to one of the bars, coffee house or band rehearsal or sit and read.  

We would come back after being sent out to work at various sites and reconnect after a couple of weeks.  

Ellen would come to listen to the band when we played and was very interested in some compositions I was working on in my free time on the ice.  She actually sat with me as I played through them on an old, barely pulled together piano in the chapel, she listened to them and had ideas about them and opinions.   She was a strong friend that could meet me squarely no matter what space I took up.  She was okay taking up space for herself.  In a place that might bring isolation and scarcity - Ellen made it seem like there was enough. 

She came to visit the summer between our seasons on the ice.  We went to Al's in Dinkytown for breakfast.  Al's is a tiny whole in the wall diner with a single row of stools.  It serves breakfast.  We gabbed, we gossiped and caught up on what we knew about anyone from the ice.  She had reconnected with her boyfriend.  I had connected with Kristin.  We talked about romance and ate pancakes.  

We shopped at the Depth of Field yarn store on the West Bank.  The creaky wooden floors and old brick walls with aisles of yarn - silk, wool, cotton, mohair - stacked 10 feet high.  Sweaters, hats, mittens, stockings hung from the ceiling.  There was something tacked on every corner or wall space that didn't have yarn on it.  

We talked about going back to the ice and our plans for the coming season.  It was really only a day.  That was all - a day in July.  She went to visit her sister and back to Montana. 

That was it - that was the last time I talked to her.  She had a brain tumor and it pretty much took over by August that year.  Her family didn't know me and did not take calls or respond to requests to talk to Ellen.  She passed away that fall. 

52 is good and lucky and I get to be here.  

Chewie and I did an agility trial this weekend.  Sometimes i just have to laugh at myself because I know there are certain goals everyone has at these trials and I am no so sure whether my goals are anywhere close to theirs.  

This particular trial, I did want Chewie and I to have some qualifying runs.  Mostly I wanted a dog that barked at me and wagged his tail and showed off a bit.  When Chewie does that he is having fun.  I wanted him to have fun.  I wanted to have fun.  I wanted him have no idea if we missed something.  The last trial we entered we left early because he was not feeling well.   He was hesitant with some of the contacts.  I wanted to figure out if he enjoyed playing agility and if it was enough.

We qualified on 1 of 7 runs.  Chewie barked at me for all seven runs.  He was excited at the start line every time.  He was confident with all his contacts - A frames and dog walk.  He ran up and watched me for his okay to move to the next obstacle.  He did not drop a single bar on any jump.  When I goofed up he told me about it.  He ran and on two courses he ran so fast I couldn't keep up with him.  

When we got home the first night he barked at Gromit and play bowed and gave him a solid hip check.  They played for a few minutes and sniffed each other.  When I arose at the crack of dawn on day 2 he followed me around and wanted to go with me.  It meant a lot that he wanted to keep playing.  

Chewie barking at me for every start line - that was enough.  Chewie barking at me because I ran into him when he was going so fast I couldn't get my front cross in - made me laugh and at the end - I was still laughing and he let out one of his howling barks.  I think it was his way of saying - that was pretty funny, and you need to get your buns in gear partner! 

Chewie and Gromit being my partner at nose work or agility or running -  is more than enough.