That busy season called life

I’m in that busy season called life.  My hands are filled with multi-coloured ribbons that are connected to a bouquet of helium balloons that bob along above my head wherever I go.

One balloon says ‘kids’ and has pictures of swimming lessons, trumpet lessons, school assemblies, play-dates, homework, cub scouts, legos, school dinners, and scooters swirling around the outside.

One balloon says ‘body’ and stretches like a yoga salute, capers along in the front like a morning run, then nods in the back of the bunch to rest and sleep.

One says ‘work.’  Across it roam ideas for animations to teach physics, scripts to edit, scripts to critique, colleagues in India and Ireland to connect with, animations to improve, words to polish.

One says ‘music’ and it sways to the lop-sided waltz of the 2nd movement of Tchaikovsky’s 6th Symphony.  That’s how my stride feels with all these balloons: graceful and uneven, revealing a beauty in the unexpected.

One says ‘teaching’ and it is lifted by the bright excitement of my new students for the year.  There are nine – six first years and three second years.  I’m finding wonderful subtleties to appreciate and understand in the physics we’re learning that escaped me the first few times around.  Even though the problems are the same from year to year, the students aren’t.  Neither am I.

One says ‘love’ and it’s a balloon I’ve had dancing above my head for more than 15 years now.  We (my love and I), had a special trip to Paris last weekend to celebrate my birthday, our 10th wedding anniversary (about 15 months late), and each other. The kids had a great time staying with friends and we had a long lazy weekend of food, walks, art, and jazz.  We felt like we were getting away with something!  I’m sure we were.

One says ‘writing.’ It is a transparent balloon, easy to miss in the riot of colour bouncing above my head.  It floats above them all.  I couldn’t say what swirls on the outside, or how it dances, or what noble gas races wildly inside, keeping it afloat.  But I know it’s there, and there is a grounding comfort in that thought.

All these balloons lighten my step, they really do.  Each provides an extra bit of buoyancy to carry me along. To let one go or pop another would be a sad subtraction – I would have one less balloon in the bunch.  It’s tricky to see them all in the crowd, but I know they are up there, each doing its job, keeping me on my toes.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to That busy season called life

  1. Bonnie Garrison says:

    I love your thoughts, Melissa! Only butterflies are able to dance to this, and they do! Watching them always reminds me of this selection from my most favorite symphony.


  2. Elaine says:

    I love your idea of balloons lightening your step as opposed to the normal image of balls to juggle and keep in the air. Balloons and balls are both spherical but one lifts up of its own accord and the other must be continually thrown and caught.


  3. Elaine says:

    and I meant to say that with balloons you can hold them all at once (you can be a mother and a worker and someone who has fun), whereas juggling balls are made stressful by the fact that you only hold each one briefly….


  4. Melissa says:

    Thanks, Bonnie and Elaine. When I was thinking about writing this, I was actually thinking about NOT writing this – in the sense that I was thinking about doing less. But then I thought, I don’t want to give up any of these things that keep my life interesting. So, somehow, balloons came to mind. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to hold so many that you were lifted up. Never mind the physics of it – wouldn’t it be magic?


  5. Amber says:

    I love this imagery – that these things lift you up. So often I think of all these things I do as burdens, even the good stuff. This is a much more empowering perspective, I think.


  6. Chris Galvin says:

    I am picturing my own balloons – they are gemstone colors.


What did you discover? Please share thoughts, links, comments below.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s