...quiet, about a lot of things...
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Off The Mark..
I think the young are more purely eccentric than the old. The older I get, the odder I get, this is certainly true. But I think I get more stuck, more mannered, rather than truly eccentric.
To me, eccentric behavior, is spontaneous as a sneeze. Not planned or contrived. Really, the moment that too much thought goes into something, it becomes pretence.
So, back to point, I think that when I was young, I was more eccentric. Like the first time I but my moms petti coat on my head, very pleased with my hat, and thought I was ready to go grocery shopping with her. Or the week I did head stands on in the corner til my skull ached. Why? Cause I figured it out, and I could. Plus it was an interesting perspective. I also remember draping french cut green beans over the tray of my high chair in a very particular pattern.
My kids had different quirks of their own. Rachel became fixated on certain objects. A favorite movie. Just one at a time. Like Fantasia. Again and again and again. Like she was committing to memory every single detail, every stroke, every note and nuance. She would also fall in love with a piece of clothing...and it would appear every day.. hence the much touted summer of the cow hat.
Maggie has always been very tactile. She has smeared anything that could be smeared, on her body and surroundings. She has a fear of large fish. And to this day, still sleeps with a tiny piece of her beloved blankie.
My mother in law, much less tolerant of differences, told me I should just throw it our. That was 12 years ago. Instead, I let the washer take its pound of yarn each time I pried it from her hands. Now she just a wad of yarn threads, which she still tucks under her pillow, at 14. It smells and feels like that age, when she was innocent, and un-judged. When she could have something..just because it soothed her.
I used to tell my mother in law, when she gave me "that" look...I saw no harm. It's not like she was going to walk down the aisle with it.
But now, I'm thinking..so what if she does want to stuff a couple of those well loved fibers into her bra, or have them sewn in a hem for luck, whenever she ventures down the aisles of her life.
We could all use a magic feather some days...and comfort comes in many forms. I am proud of my decision...to never be part of ever taking hers away.
For more personal foibles..head on over to Scribbling. Let's see who colored outside the lines