There are times when I’m reading books to my kids, when I come across one page, with one phrase or sentence, that takes my breath away. It often happens in many wonderful children’s books that seem to be written as much for adults as for children. Maria Popova on her site Brain Pickings, where she reviews many of these kinds of children’s books, often quotes Maurice Sendak who said, “I do not believe that I have ever written a children’s book. I don’t write for children. I write—and somebody says, ‘That’s for children!’”
And so it is that when I’m reading books to my children, a line in a book feels like it has been written just for me.
When I read Oliver Jeffers’ latest book to my children Here We Are: Notes For Living on Planet Earth, we came across a page with an expansive view of what appears to be two land masses separated by a body of water. A rocket shoots up towards the sky. A satellite and a UFO are in outer space. Ships, sailboats, trucks, airplanes, and blimps made the scene appear to be one of purposeful travel and commerce. Across the pages are the words:
Though we have come a long way, we haven’t quite worked everything out, so there is plenty left for you to do.You will figure lots of things out for yourself. Just remember to leave notes for everyone else.
Illustration from Oliver Jeffers' Here We Are
Jeffers' words reminding us to “leave notes for everyone else” immediately took me back to my high school years when my father knocked on my bedroom door. I was sixteen years old at the time and he handed me what appeared to be a manuscript—a stack of typed and handwritten pages.
My mother died when I was two years old. In the year she was sick with terminal cancer, she wrote me an extended letter. My father didn’t tell me about it until when I was in high school. He handed me her letter and said “I think you are ready for this.” I read throughout the night. These were her “notes” left for me.
Now I write a journal for my children. I write down funny things they say. I describe activities we do together. I write my thoughts about our family our journey together through life. Why do I write this journal? Perhaps it is partly for myself, to help me remember all the wonderful moments we share. Friends with children already grown often offer the advice to enjoy this time with my children when they are young "because they will grow up so quickly." This reminds me of philosopher Alan Watts’ advice,
The art of living … consists in being completely sensitive to each moment, in regarding it as utterly new and unique, in having the mind open and wholly receptive.
But isn’t it so difficult to live immediately in the moment without thinking about work, to do lists, and responding to emails? Consistent practice and attention is demanded to live fully in the moment with our friends and family.
Luis, my son, and I draw monsters together. We each draw monsters on our own pieces of paper and, after I finish one, he asks me, “What kind of monster is it?” My favorite moment was when he left the paper blank and said, “This one is an invisible monster.” He enjoys turning the trees on our patio into gallery spaces. He tacks the pictures he draws onto the trunks and branches. I write this little moment in order to capture it and place it in a time capsule so that we may live it again and again.
The Gallery of Monsters
Why do I write a journal for my children? I think for the same reason my mother wrote, to leave notes behind, so that we can return to our shared experiences. By reading these moments, I hope they will know me in different ways as they grow older. When I am no longer here, they will still have something of me to hold in their hands. I wonder if this is the motivation why most writers write—to leave a little something behind for everyone else when they are gone.