By: Jennifer Richardson Holt
My life as of late has been one great collection of contrasts. I suppose today I have come here to talk about these various contradictions. If for no other reason perhaps in reading you will be able to relate to some of them or at the very least be amused by my relation of them.
The vision that started it was early morning and the whole landscape was aglow in gold. Everything I saw, every tree, every building, even the lab casually meandering down the side of the road was washed in a golden, hazy glow. It was downright magical to witness. It then occurred to me to pose the question to no one in particular as to why my humble small Alabama town looked as if it had been enchanted by some form of elven magic. When I started pondering the ethereal ambience and why it seemed my traditional drive to work could produce a fairy sighting the surprising truth came to me like a ton of proverbial bricks. This sublime light was caused by something I very literally loathe. The rising sun was caught in the ungodly amounts of moisture in the air. This same moisture is the oppressive plague that makes the summertime here like breathing soup. What I despise about summer is this dreadful humidity that makes everything so miserable. And here this same source of misery was making a simplistic scene downright glorious. The irony of this was not lost on me and once I really began to dwell on it, the contrasts all over my life these days proved more prominent than I had ever dared realize.
For instance, recently we had a bird build a nest in the rafters of the pavilion out by our pool. It was a fun course of events to watch mama bird build then occupy her nest. It always merited a chuckle from me when she would get frustrated with us whenever we were outside. She would go perch on the fence and flit her tail in annoyed fashion in between flights between the nearest tree branches. We were excited to see the gaping little mouths that eventually peeked out from the rafters. They were fuzzy and they were many. Less thrilling were their frequent projectiles from underneath their little tailfeathers, but I digress. I was there the day that the crowd, that had by this point grown to simply stand around their nest rather than sitting within it, decided after one loud nearby noise that it was time to fly away. You hate to see your part of the childhood adventure come to an end but you know they have to go off on their own. It’s all part of the process.
I guess the hatchlings leaving the nest is proving the most poignant analogy of juxtaposition of bitter and sweet for me. My daughter will this fall have to leave the nest. She will begin the school career that we all begin. This will be when my fuzzy little chick has to fly from the nest that I have worked for 5 years to make comfortable and warm and out into the world she will go. Yes, I know she will come home each day still, this is a big first flight. This is the beginning of a whole new journey for her. To say my emotions on this matter are mixed is an understatement. I am thrilled for her to embark on the process of making friends that could very well last a lifetime. I am intrigued to see where this path for her goes, but then, there is the matter that this will be her first small taste of the intoxicating drink that is independence. It is growth and progress and it is anxiety and concern. I will (hopefully) survive but I will (definitely) find the whole experience one of joy and of sorrow. I am not ready to watch the wee bird fly the nest but I know to hold her back will do her no favors. The real world awaits and she must go.
So, I am at a point in my life that the good and the bad are indistinguishably intertwined. I admit that at times the inability to untangle the two makes for something of an emotional rollercoaster. But we all face this, so I am not telling you anything new. The good brings with it the bad. The mountaintops would bear no significance without the valleys that elevate them. But, as I’ve learned, the valleys are where things grow. While they are the more taxing of the two, we should all want to grow. I hope I can always remember the shimmer of humidity and know that even the unpleasant times can glow.
Prose and Possibilities 