Thursday, June 12, 2014

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels

My summer interns have arrived at work, a crew of really bright college students from Texas and Pennsylvania and California and New York. I was explaining how best to reach me yesterday to the newest of the lot. She's going to be working mostly in our DC building and I spend most of my time in one of our Maryland buildings so I was showing her how to access my Google calendar and mentioned that I'm hard to reach by phone because of my heavy meeting schedule but that I always have my Blackberry with me and suggested that she should email me as questions arise.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "My mom is just like that, too. I can only catch her by email. I understand." Now, record scratch: did that girl just compare me to her mom? Okay, wait: I'm technically old enough to be her mom. Hmm.

[She's an excellent writer, even if she thinks I'm ancient. Repeat: she's an excellent writer, even if...]


School lets out this week for my kindergartner and my second grader, soon never to be called by those descriptions again. The treasures have been trickling home all week, decorations from their lockers and their math workbooks and art portfolios, first day photos and writing samples cleverly mounted by teachers next to photos and writing assignments from this week. Those girls, they've grown.

A painting L made sometime in her kindergarten experience after studying Joan Miro. Stuffed in a grocery bag of art treasures. 

I look at these things and those faces and I think how old they look, how grown, how much they've learned and tried and risked and stumbled and accomplished to get where they are. And 'old,' framed that way, sits quite nicely.

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