As soon as Ri saw the flurries, she grew happy. “Merry Christmas, Mommy. Merry Christmas, Yaya! Merry Christmas, Laura!” She chanted in her garbled way of prounouncement that sounds like cruhfrump or some such. It was the first excitement she’s had watching the world from her carseat since people began stashing their holiday lights and blow up decorations.
She was quite excited to go outside in the slowly falling snow. And then it hit her in the eye and the wind blew. She spun on her heel and walked briskly to the back door. She pounded and hollered “I’m done. Inside!”
We convinced her to go back out with her siblings and a hat named “Bob.”
She came out with a flag. She stole a snowball from Ya (after he spent a minute molding it into perfection). She tossed it at Chi. And then Chi took off after her. Then Ri turned and chased her.
By then, Ya had made a few more snowballs and was ready to join in. He pelted Chi several times.
When Ri was attacked – – the first real retaliation – – she was again done.
Back inside, Chi completed several self portraits in her sketch book.
Ya (after asking PopPop to hire him for $2) went outside to sweep the dusty snow. I found him in the center of the yard half hour later making snow angels.
I’ve been devouring this book titled “Lies My Teacher Told Me,” and it dawned on me that I, too, am telling lies. Lying doesn’t always mean being untruthful in my words — sometimes a lie is in the untold.
I omit parts of our history, preserving the essence only superficially. It’s unfair to you – my reader – that you are subjected to this euphamistic life story. But it might also be unfair to include some of the harsh criticism that I feel people in our lives often deserve. I choose not to share some of my struggles with those I love because to do so might pervert opinion. People in my life cannot defend themselves here and to share my slanted take on their actions without offering them chance for defense would irreversibly taint your view.
There are three sides to every story- yours, mine, and the truth.
How telling is that statement?
I’ve been grappling with presenting more clarity. I want to be transparent. I know that part of my legacy is within this blog. The moments I share, the conversations I retell become forever preserved when I hit publish. Perhaps that’s why I sometimes subconsciously [or purposely?] elect to defer to images. You may not have the full context, but I can hope that your inferences are accurate. And even if the picture skews reality a little bit, I’ve tried to preserve our lives beyond mere memory.