Today’s title, ‘Spark Notes’, has been patiently awaiting my attention while in the holding cell of my “drafts” folder. In fact, my opportunity and drive to write, this week, has been somewhat prolific. And I say, “take it while I can get it,” because I expect next week to have to linger on the tails of my past three postings (this one included). I have even had time this week to peruse a few blogs I have been introduced to over the past year. I feel much accomplished, as far as having invested in a few writings and readings that give me a little spark. AAAhhhh, my segue into the title at hand. What is your spark? What is mine?
Now obviously I cannot answer the question for you. But I can share a bit of the sparks in my life, and in that, in the lives of my nuclear family.
For me, dyed black hair is a pleasure I enjoy. And if I encounter true, naturally black hair, elation wells up within me. I began dying my hair black back in high school. My then boyfriend (who happens to now be my husband) and I bought a bottle of some sort of “cover the gray” black rinse and we applied it, each to the other, without the use of protective gloves (uh oh, in the category of teenagers this could sound like a covert innuendo–I promise it is not). And because we used our skin exposed hands for the job, we consequently went through the next month with the evidence not only imprinted onto each of our strands of hair, but also emanating from every skin pore on the palm of our hands. The box said, “washes out with several shampoo’s,” and though our hands recovered after a months time, my long tresses did not. In fact two years after the occasion, on my wedding day, my long hair was sporting a half and half d00…the top half naturally brown and the bottom half unnaturally black. My husband, on the other hand, had shaved his hair off long before our betrothal. Now in between that time and now I have experimented with reds and blondes and blacks. I like the reds though I don’t like them with my skin tone. Blonde, I am just not. So black it is for me. And though it began as a love affair with the color, it has sadly become my battle cry against father time and his minions in white.
I realize that sharing hair dye as one of my “sparks” is a little weak…at face value. But truly my greatest spark comes from humor. Humor in all things, aging included. And in consideration of the humorous undertone of the black bottle bit, you can better understand my spark. I am also fueled by that which fuels my husband and children. I find their happiness to simultaneously fill my cup (this is a very weird sentence structure–any help on it, if it indeed is incorrectly written, is most appreciated).
Thus I will indulge my fancy further by writing about the newest spark in the Bent clan…
A sailboat. Yep, a 25ft fiberglass hull vessel. My husband and son have ventured into this purchase together (one has the money and the other has the brawn–read my past post to guess which is which); and it is through their adventurous spirit the rest of us (my daughter Esther, and I) become sailors.
As most of the readers of this blog know, Cole has suffered a very significant loss in his quality of life. He was a strapping and strong young United States Marine, prior to having his brain tumor removed. And now he is dependent upon others due to the physical impairments which are his. Result of cranial nerve damage from having a growth on his brain stem removed (death was the alternate option). In all reality, we are so very fortunate to have him alive and in as good of shape as he is in. We know that, but he doesn’t. He struggles so much–every day. Every night. And so becoming an owner of a boat, alongside his dad, is a step in the right direction. The hope is that there will be a piece of flint lurking about his new adventures…it will find its way to the concrete of his soul and scrape against it. And when it does, I pray it will create a spark which will turn into a roaring fire. A fire within my son’s being that will give him back purpose, feeling, and desire. I do believe G-d can do this with a little 25 foot sailboat. I just don’t know when.
Yet in the meantime the four of us are enjoying the open seas, the calm of the harbor, and each other…at least we are making every effort in this direction (I am prone to seasickness of all things). We have yet to spend the night on her, but these warm summer nights are like a siren’s call. I’m sure it won’t be long before we yield.
My last two posts (‘Shut the Hell Up!’ and ‘Betwixt, Bothered, and Be-Whining‘) came fiercely and quickly as the intervention of my cathartic pen was needed for the health of my psyche. But this post, this patiently awaiting its time, post…this is my spark note. Please feel free to share yours.