Saturday, October 20, 2018


August 20, 2018:

"compulsory", obligatory", "done" seem to be the words which first come to mind when speaking of duty. Often these are accompanied,  by an adjective even less flattering; "grim, determined, bound." Today, I find happiness in the term, as I see my children off to their first day of school, knowing that their lunches are packed, their summer was as good as one can offer, and that they have had years of homeschooling to make them look forward to spending their days among peers instead of with me. Or at least that is what I am telling myself.

October 20, 2018:

I have been exploring the meaning of surrender and resistance, of should/must/need amidst this freedom of sorts that has appeared for a few hours a day.  What is it that I owe to my family, to the world? What do I owe to myself? Is there a difference?

Some things can be both  duty and  privilege, depending on how they are viewed. The act of voting carries with it this dual sense. It was in France that I heard for the first time; "There. Voted. We did our duty." I had never considered it that way; it was drilled into our young American minds to remember the privilege it was to live in a democratic nation, where we had the right to choose who governed. I would say that both sides of the question are of value, but the feeling that comes with completing a duty may be of longer and more profound duration. Can we say there is a lower meaning to doing dishes and keeping up with the laundry? Which comes first, the completion of 5000 words today or keeping away the dust bunnies? When you are working from home, the angst can weigh on you; first things first...but which is which?

As for France and our family there, all concerned with this summer's trip seem to have the same regard for it; the grandparents are back to their daily routine, happy to have taken care of us and happy to have their house back, I suspect.  I approached this visit to France with a sense of this before leaving. I would do everything I could to be helpful, uncomplaining and grateful. It wasn't that I was regarding it as an ordeal, well, maybe the traveling part; security and long hours cramped in tiny quarters, followed by mad dashes through airports, only to be met with long lines to go through security or immigration. Was the effort simply monumental? Yes. Was it hard for the grandparents to host six people and serve them two meals a day every day? Terribly!

I was not needed in the kitchen, Mamie Coco has her own way of shopping, meal organization and serving, keeping out of her way was the best thing to do. However, setting the table, and doing the dishes after each meal, became my own. Once in awhile, one of my older kids would take over, and you could find them singing as they washed and wiped. It must be the novelty of having no chores at all, and taking over one giant task at one meal that gave them the same sense of "I did something to help".

Many hours were passed before and during the trip, planning to visit certain places or certain beloved friends and family. How we looked forward to those experiences! They were fun, elucidating, exciting, but the feeling that struck me yesterday, walking in the woods with my pup, was much deeper and noble, and...satisfying. We all pitched in, we remained on good terms with each other, despite the close conditions, despite the heat, in spite of the difference in child-rearing philosophies and generational gaps. Back home, the house is in a rather decent state, meals are cooked, flowers watered and alive.

Duty fulfilled, go in peace. (Without too much back-patting-of-self, really. I tripped on a branch right after that.)

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