Coming Home

student work

Remember the 6 word story?  I used that for prompts in my art classes- both the beginners and the advanced- and this is one of the results from the AP class.  Simple story "Mom? It's me.  I'm coming home."  But placed on ephemera- an old letter, an envelope, an obituary....modern found magazine text.  Past, present, time, meaning- I really like this.  Evocative, which is one of the things art should be.

Like certain songs that get stuck in your head, and resonate over and over again- there is one in my head now that I can't stop singing to myself, thinking of, hooked on the melody and the lyrics of which the only one I remember is 'Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk". I'm not personally that fond of either one- don't smoke, and - well, I do *like* chocolate milk, but like malted better, and chocolate always reminds me of the milk in school lunches- small paper cartons with thin, room temperature milk that you were never quite sure if it was safe to drink or not.  I'm not a fan of school lunches...

Today I'm a bit off pace with writing, thinking.  No school today- we are going to the funeral this morning, and maybe to the hospital this afternoon to drop off Sara's gifts from school- can't see her though as she is in ICU.  I'm concerned, and thinking about her, wishing her well. And another of my students was also in a crash on Sunday- flipped her 4 wheeler, no helmet of course, will be ok- out for a few weeks, neck/back/arm injuries, but lucky to be alive.  If she had been riding alone in the woods, or landed differently- worry.  I know that the kids need to get out and take risks and experiment but the mother in me wants to fuss and keep them safe. I like everything to be safe (there is that 'world' quest coming back again)- that seems my primary objective at the moment.  And it is a bit strange because I never feared Grendel traveling solo, running around the island at all hours, exploring in the cities, staying home alone and then being on his own- but I feared other things- guns, four wheelers, driving.  I didn't have those things- the guns and the four wheelers- but Kyle did, and I know that at Kyle's the boys did (and do) go shooting, driving, and- Kyle at least- used to have an unreasonable love of blowing things up.  I think my fear of him driving was a disservice, and I didn't push learning it, so he hasn't mastered it yet and is reluctant to.  My fear, and I think his wariness, comes from my first years teaching where I had so many students die in car accidents and we attended the funerals- it made me sad and cautious, and I'm sure it made an impression on him as well.  Something to conquer.

I'm really off track this morning- sorry- I should be braced for a good day, had a really good sleep last night complete with dessert dreams of this lovely drink made with chocolate, salted caramel and vodka- it was warm and had a light whipped cream on top, sweet but with the salt that made it interesting, and a bit of a bite.  Good, good stuff.  And I came home after endless meetings and teaching my online class to homemade chicken soupy stuff that was warm and comforting, eaten in my chair while watching cartoons with the manz.  

I know that today will be full of emotions, and I suppose I am distracted by the anticipation of that, but I am thick thinking and not clear- a state that I am not fond of at all.  I get irritable with myself when I think slow, when the words don't fly right, when I can't focus in on the picture.