My husband took this past Monday off from work because it's not every day that one's daughter turns ten. In fact, if you only have one daughter, there is only one day in your entire life that your daughter turns ten. And ten is a big deal. It's only one "e" away from a teenager, according to Hallmark. It's just the beginning of double digits, and chances are, double digits is as big a number as you'll get.
We went bowling for Avery's birthday. I was delighted, surprised and thrilled that she chose to spend the day with just us rather than inviting a friend, or many friends, along to celebrate her special day. As we were driving to the bowling alley, my husband, who's not very comfortable taking a day off from work and I suspect was feeling guilty going bowling instead of working, made the observation that, whether he was here or there, the world just kept chugging along. The car in front of us would still be heading south on the freeway whether or not he was driving behind it, the buildings we were passing would still be in the same location whether or not we were driving past them, the wind would still be blowing and the sun would still rise, etc. In other words, our actions, in the big scheme of things, are rather insignificant. He said, "I know this seems obvious, but it just really hit me."
"I know what you mean. We're not the center of the universe, are we?", I responded. We're not even the center of our own universe. When we change our orbit, our personal planets do not collide. I think this realization is just part of growing up, being ten times three or four. My husband's observation might explain why I haven't posted in a while. My life keeps happening whether or not I write about it or share pictures of it. The pumpkins still get big and turn orange, the construction crew next door still blasts 80's rock music, we still eat zucchini for breakfast, lunch and dinner, the chickens continue to not lay eggs, and the floor still needs mopping whether or not I blog. Obvious, yes, but observations tend to be.
I've observed something else the last few evenings. I've seen my husband sit down at the computer and open up my blog, looking for a new post. Does he miss my writing? Is he waiting for me to post pictures of the camping trip we took without him last week? Is he wondering when I'll muse about our daughter turning ten? Is he curious if I'll post some recipes of the zucchini dishes we've been eating lately? (He looked up my zucchini egg fu yung post while I was away.) Has my blog become a means of communication in our marriage? Is it easier for him to understand my thoughts when I publish them than when I try to share them out loud? Is our life together more beautiful when I share a close-up picture of a small part of it? Am I thinking too much about my blog and our marriage because I just listened to the book Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert?
Perhaps, but in the big scheme of things, does it really matter? After all, my blog is still here whether or not I post. My camera is still full of pictures whether or not I upload them. My daughter is still ten whether or not I wax nostalgic about her birthday. The wind still blows, the sun still rises, obladi, oblada, life goes on.
So for my husband, and also for those of you who have waded through the drivel above, and even for those of you who just skipped down to the pictures, here are some snapshots of my life over the past two weeks.
Eventually I'll return to regular programming, but for now, I'm going to eat my zucchini, listen to the worker next door sing "Love is a Battlefield", let the world spin, and take comfort in the fact that I'm not the center of it, but just a speck of dust on it's surface.