I see hyperlinks all the time when I am walking my dog. Last summer for instance, I came upon an entire block with every single tree all the way down the block festooned in purple ribbon. Several neighbors were outside and because I might be a teeny bit nosy, I asked what the ribbons stood for. It turned out that someone on the block had died of pancreatic cancer. The ribbons were a show of support for his wife and family.
There's another hyperlink situation on my street right now. I live in an old neighborhood. People like the idea of living in the city, close to downtown, close to museums, etc., but they don't like the little houses, with little closets and no modern conveniences. So they buy the lots and tear 90% of the house down, then they build a mini-mansion that extends to the very edge of the lot. Right now there is one going up down the street from me. The interesting part, though, is that the house just to the north of it has a roofed patio. Right now, the roof of the patio is hanging over the fence of the new house. And there's a downspout from the existing house that actually goes right down into the new house's yard. Every time I walk by it, I wonder about that roof and that downspout. Who is over whose property line? And how are they going to resolve it?
Even closer to my house, there's another hyperlink. About half a block down, there's a woman who teaches English in a neighboring school district. I don't know her well, but we have nice conversations about teaching and books and last summer, she asked for advice about her son, a first grader who was not quite reading yet. She has a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful garden in her front yard and she's out there all the time in the summer. She tells me pretty regularly that when she retires she is going to have a gardening business. Except this summer she hasn't been out there at all. No one is working in her garden. I have seen her little boy on the porch, but she's not around. And I wonder where she is. And if she is ok. I want to go knock on the front door and ask, but I don't know her that well. Definitely one of life's hyperlinks.
Finally, there is a hyperlink situation going on at my own house. My boys have always been super, super, super close. Best friends. It is rare to see one without the other. If one forgot his lunch money, the other one shared his lunch. At football practice they always stood next to each other. When they went out on weekends, I knew they had each other's backs. Something has happened in the last few weeks, since Son #1 came back from his road trip. Son #2 doesn't want anything to do with him. Barely talks to him, doesn't ask him to do stuff, hardly even acknowledges his presence. Last night I came home from book club and Son #1 was sitting down the basement crying. I'm pretty sure it has to do with his brother, but I don't know what's going on. And no one will tell me.
Just another hyperlink in the story of life…
6 comments:
Hope you get the story of the last two hyperlinks- I can tell you care about both, of course, especially your boys. I like the way you used the idea of the hyperlink to frame your wonderings. It sounds like you live in a very interesting neighborhood.
I love your analogy of the hyperlinks of life! Everyone has a story. I can see one link leading to another link leading to another link, criss crossing over in a tangled mess ... because we are part of this crazy, hyperlinked life together. Beautiful stories of wonder. Keep writing!
It's a creative, and now in our lives, applicable way of wanting to know the whole story. You've written the first part beautifully, Carol, & now we just want to "click" to discover the rest. I hope you will find out what's going on with your sons and your gardening neighbor, sounds important.
You call it hyperlinks, I call it "inquiring minds want to know" when there is a situation that leaves you puzzling. I hope your boys can resolve their issue with each other. What a tragedy to have them at odds. Yes, the mind does wonder what could have happened to alter their behavior to each other.
You are amazing, Carol! My daughter, the new teacher, and I, the apparently retired one, love to share your blog.
Jean
Ah, my heart. As always, I do love to read your writing, and this post has caused a giant lump in my throat. I'm sorry your sons are going through a rough spot, and I hope it passes quickly.
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