Life’s flowers...

May 2007

When I sat down to write this month’s Outside/In, I could hardly bear to put words on the page.

Generally, I am blessed to be able to use this space to write about the pleasures of life, be they in the form of entertainment, good food, fun in the sun, or the natural beauty and wonders of the Jersey shore.

It’s a pleasant task, and none too difficult, given the abundance of good things to be had on this heavenly slice of South Jersey coastline. But this time, I didn’t think I could do it.

I have three children. Like most parents, I love them more than life itself, and they also drive me crazy.

They fill my days with joy and aggravation, again, sometimes at the same time. My youngest daughter, still in high school, has the unfortunate challenge of being the only child in residence full time, which, according to her, unfairly subjugates her to an inordinate amount of maternal scrutiny.

She’s home most of the time, and when she isn’t, I make it my business to know where she is and with whom, accounting as closely for her every minute as I can.

My other two children live away at college.

Before April 16, 2007, I worried about my kids living away from home. But my worries were generally mundane — were they eating right, getting enough rest, partying a bit too much, keeping up with their studies? I never worried that they might be shot while in a classroom.

But that all changed on the morning of April 16th, when a mentally unbalanced young man mowed down thirty-two students and teachers at Virginia Tech before taking his own life.

Like the rest of the world, I was horrified. And, like every parent with a child away at college, I was instantly terrified. Suddenly, grades were insignificant. Choosing a major became trivial. The only thing I could think about was, “Are they safe?” During the week that followed, I took little pleasure in anything.

Constant media coverage kept the details of the massacre at the forefront of our national consciousness. It almost felt sinful to contemplate any indulgence in the face of such tragedy. And the blustery, frigid weather, unseasonal for early spring, felt all too appropriate.

Yet late in the week, Mother Nature gifted us with the first warm, sunny days we’ve seen in months, and I felt an initially unidentifiable restlessness.

Soon enough, I recognized that somehow, I needed to reclaim a sense of normalcy. I needed to do something to acknowledge that though the world often appeared to be spinning out of control, there was good, there was beauty, there was pleasure.

I didn’t eat out at a fancy restaurant. I didn’t buy tickets to a fabulous show. I didn’t indulge scratch the itch of the spring shopping bug which bites every year around this time.

Instead, I bought some flowers.

I bought flowers, took them home, and planted them, taking in their simple beauty. Then, I sat down and soaked up the warmth of the sun on my face while I called my two oldest kids at school.

No matter how we try, we’ll never be capable of assuring safety every time, everywhere. But we can’t allow that unsettling truth to keep us from living and recognizing life’s gifts.

I will return to favorite restaurants.

I’ll enjoy wonderful entertainers.

And of course, I’ll shop. But more important, I’ll look for the flowers offered to me by this life every day in some form or another.

And I will try and teach my children to do the same.