Debra Darvick
enhance your now in word and imageKIDS @ HEART
BEFORE NOW
This Tickled Me
Another grey cloudy dreary winter day here in Michigrim. I pulled into a space in Kroger’s parking lot, fumbled for my list, and wished, not for the first time to see the sun again.
Then I saw this car smiling at me. Windshield wipers askew, a double smile on the hood, its little window-washer-jet eyes further anthromorphizing the image of a happy little being. I couldn’t help but smile back.
If a car can be happy despite its wonky wipers, I can surely weather another gray sky. Sometimes all it takes is a second look to shift one’s mood.
Forever Blowing Bubbles
Doing dishes can be boring. But not when you use the detachable rim of your smoothie cup for a bubble wand! Even my cabinet pulls and handle were fascinated!
I adore bubbles. They are totally magical. They defy gravity. They’re iridescent. A bubble is a perfect sphere sandwich of water and soap molecules. When we were nine, my cousin Sharon taught me how to blow bubbles using my hand as a wand.
1. Submerge your fist in soapy water.
2. Open your fist slowly, keeping your fingers pressed together and your index finger and thumb in contact.
3. You should see a film of soap in the circle formed by your forefinger and thumb. Blow gently and magic! Your first hand-made bubble.
photo credit: Martin Darvick
To Dye For
I love getting messy with Leah and Olivia. Stomping in rain puddles, playing with finger paint, squeezing Play-Doh® through our fingers…Bring it on!
While I had to be in charge of the messy part of tie dying the T-shirts, Olivia helped twist the rubber bands and held the “rabbits’ ears” of bunched fabric for me to bind. We dipped the shirts in the bucket of dye, stirred them round and round à la Macbeth’s witches. What a flashback to my high school years when sleep-overs were prime tie dye time — shirts, shorts, undies, you name it, we tie-dyed it. We made a (quasi) matching one for Leah and an extra for Olivia to keep or give as a gift. And I have a new night shirt. No matching undies however.
Double the Pleasure
Last weekend my son took me out in his family’s new vehicle — an electric bike/people transporter. Imagine a souped-up 21st century rickshaw where rider and passengers have traded places. Olivia and I nestled ourselves in the passenger bucket while Elliot rode us along Chicago’s lake shore. It was totally cool, a lot of fun, a little bumpy and we definitely drew looks and quite a few thumbs up. I don’t know if she’ll remember this maiden ride, but I will never forget it.
photo (edited for privacy) courtesy of Martin Darvick
Beach Trash Transformed into Art
“Beach Trash on Shutters”
Someone snapped this of me and said it looked like I had just stepped out of the painting. Maybe I was looking for a way back in?
Not a Quilting Bee, and Yet….
Monday evening I did something I haven’t done since Covid, and maybe even a few years before that. Some girlfriends and I got together to assemble welcome baskets for guests of a friend’s daughter who’s getting married this weekend. The bride asked us to be environmentally mindful — no extra tissue, no plastic water bottles, no extra wrapping. After two plus years of fraught deicsions over masks, vaccines, boosters, plane rides and socializing, choosing between granola bars and pop corn, chocolates and trail mixes was a balm.
We organized everything assembly-line style — bags, labels, water boxes, treats, ribbons, and a group gift for the bride. Before setting to work we did something so very commonplace pre-Covid: we shared some pizzas, salad and fabulous homemade almond cookies (thank you, Tim.) It was a thrill to catch up with one another, weaving our shared excitment into an embrace for our friend. Her husband is quite ill; our joy is also threaded with strands of sorrow.
In our card to the bride, we thanked her for getting married and giving us an opportunity to celebrate her joy. Within the void of what Covid has taken away, assembling welcome baskets was burnished with even deeper joy.