I am closer to empty nest than to toddler years, and the stabs of nostalgia are frequent. My 20 year old inspired me to get rid of apps and only access things on my laptop. That has helped me limit (although not eliminate) the time I spend on a screen.
Oof. I feel this so much. Mourning the little children who aren’t any more, relishing the teens, and struggling to be present to kids. I love the metaphor of the ant.
Thank you for reading, Lincoln. I am glad the metaphor worked for you and the writing resonated with your own mom's experiences. I love hearing what stands out to you.
I always love reading your composition notes, they are always so encouraging. Thank you for sharing those with us! I definitely feel the conviction of not wanting my kid to see me always looking at a screen (even if I am reading beautiful things, like this poem!) She is too young now for me to even try to explain that I am looking at something of substance. I have seen some people mentioning they save up a week's worth of articles and then print them off to read. Maybe I'll give that a go (now I gotta go buy more printer ink, haha).
That is an admirable venture! Let me know if you try printing everything! LOL I truly can't imagine printing everything off and then trying to go through it because part of what I love is the immediacy of writing to the author in the comments. I think I just need to be better about checking it at certain times of day? Let me know if you cone up with something.
I feel like I'm reading my own heart, here on this blue-lit screen. The pain of finding those precious pieces of artwork is all too familiar. How I remember the days watching the clock and starving for a moment of quiet. This is beautifully written. So perfectly, achingly beautiful. What a way to start the morning. (I also say the same thing about my phone and how my kids remember me. I want them to remember me gazing at their faces and making things, rather than gazing at my phone and smiling and watching others make things.)
I am closer to empty nest than to toddler years, and the stabs of nostalgia are frequent. My 20 year old inspired me to get rid of apps and only access things on my laptop. That has helped me limit (although not eliminate) the time I spend on a screen.
Oof. I feel this so much. Mourning the little children who aren’t any more, relishing the teens, and struggling to be present to kids. I love the metaphor of the ant.
Thank you, Melanie. I love hearing what resonated with you.
Ants racing through the desert. What a fantastic metaphor.
My mom didn't have a phone in the years she raised me, but she definitely experienced the same nostalgia as you. All the time.
Thank you for reading, Lincoln. I am glad the metaphor worked for you and the writing resonated with your own mom's experiences. I love hearing what stands out to you.
Amen! These are worthy thoughts, so well composed. Thank you.
Thank you for your kind words, Mark.
I always love reading your composition notes, they are always so encouraging. Thank you for sharing those with us! I definitely feel the conviction of not wanting my kid to see me always looking at a screen (even if I am reading beautiful things, like this poem!) She is too young now for me to even try to explain that I am looking at something of substance. I have seen some people mentioning they save up a week's worth of articles and then print them off to read. Maybe I'll give that a go (now I gotta go buy more printer ink, haha).
That is an admirable venture! Let me know if you try printing everything! LOL I truly can't imagine printing everything off and then trying to go through it because part of what I love is the immediacy of writing to the author in the comments. I think I just need to be better about checking it at certain times of day? Let me know if you cone up with something.
I feel like I'm reading my own heart, here on this blue-lit screen. The pain of finding those precious pieces of artwork is all too familiar. How I remember the days watching the clock and starving for a moment of quiet. This is beautifully written. So perfectly, achingly beautiful. What a way to start the morning. (I also say the same thing about my phone and how my kids remember me. I want them to remember me gazing at their faces and making things, rather than gazing at my phone and smiling and watching others make things.)
Yes! Yes! Gazing at their faces and making things. Let it be so. Thank you for reading, Lauren, and thank you for living it.
It's such a delight. I love your work so much. I need a book of your poetry, dear friend!