Road Trip

So, it's been weeks since I've been on the blog. I decided to come back and post right now so that it doesn't become never. Because, in reality, there are so many bits and pieces of this new beginning that I'd like to write down (least of which is Princeton itself--but that also has to be explored and digested by bits and pieces).

But before I forget/before it becomes too long, I want to put down some highlights from the road trip my mom and I took to get out here. I decided that I wanted to drive from Utah to New Jersey, and my mom was kind enough to come along. (She really is a saint.)

[Princeton, here we come.]

[I think this was Wyoming? But it could very well be eastern Colorado or Kansas, too.]

[Definitely Kansas]

[The Sunflower State]

[And here is the part where I bombard you with 10 million pictures of a beautiful sunflower field.]

[They are just so beautiful.]

[And it was just a beautiful summer evening.]

[My momma who is actually the best.]

[Hello there, bright one.]

[Oh haiiiiii]

[By the way, they are not facing the sun.]

[Sunrise in Indiana]

[10 points to Gryffindor if you can guess what this truck was transporting]

[If you guessed chickens, you would be right. Chickens. Chickens everywhere!]

[Heading to NJ!]

[We made it to Princeton!]

[2200 miles later.]

[Sam was a champ and came up from D.C. to help me move in, too.]

[Turns out there's a pelican sundial in Princeton, too.] 

2200 miles, 4 days, and a lot of 80s music, which any true road trip needs. (And lots and lots of sunflowers.) 

august rush

I forget sometimes how much I like this time of year. Warm days and cooler nights. Utah evenings in August are perfection. Night games on the street and in the yard. Fresh peaches. Vine-ripened tomatoes and corn on the cob. Hiking in the mountains and the sweet, fresh scent of pine and juniper in the mountains. Swimming with friends and family. Making peanut butter cookies and summer salads. Talking about everything under the sun--eclipses, protests, Sophie Scholl, books, history, and more.

August. Trying to get everything done that you meant to get done and wondering why you hadn't done it earlier. 

Before she was Mom

A couple of months ago, around Mother's Day, I read an intriguing article in the New York Times on motherhood. It's called "Our Mothers As We Never Saw Them." The author shares her insights on one of her recent projects: asking women to send in photos of their mothers before they became their mothers.

I found the concept absolutely lovely. It's an insight into mother-daughter relationships, that, in many ways, says more about the daughters than the mothers. What do we, as daughters, admire in our mothers before they were our mothers? What do we see in them that we see in ourselves, whether it's a nose, a posture, or a certain sense of bravery? What do we want to take from those pictures? Where do the stories end and the myths begin?

[My mom, before she was my mom]

As Edan Lepucki (the article's author) so poignantly stated, "For daughters, these old photos of our mothers feel like both a chasm and a bridge. The woman in the picture is someone other than the woman we know. She is also exactly the person in the photo--still, right now. Finally, we see that the woman we've come to think of as Mom--whether she's nurturing, or disapproving, or thoughtful, or delusional, or pestering, or supportive, or sentimental--is also a mysterious, fun, brave, babe. She's been here all this time."

Today, on my mom's birthday, I decided to delve into the boxes of old photographs of my mom's early years. I wasn't sure how many pre-mom photos I would find (especially because my mom became a mom fairly young in life--she was married at 20 and then had me when she was 21), but I found a gold mine of elementary school, junior high, high school, and college photographs. In these pictures, she is usually Kiersti rather than Kiersten, and she sports 70s fashion and 80s hairstyles. She usually is playing some kind of sport outside, holding a younger sibling, or blowing out candles on a birthday cake.

My sisters gathered near me and then my mom, who told the stories behind the photographs.

"How old were you in this picture?"

"I didn't know that you caught a bunny."

"You look like you're going to die in this picture."

"That's because I did think I was going to die."

The pictures I found left me wanting to find even more.

[With a bunny she caught]

[As Oscar the Grouch for Halloween]

[Canoeing]

There is something tangible yet fragile in these pictures; mysterious and real. It feels at once that I should know the young woman in the pictures perfectly, from a combination of stories she's told us about herself and the woman I know now, but looking at the photos also brings a recognition that just as I don't fully know my mom now, there's no way I could ever fully know that young woman in the pictures.

But I love her, just the same. And want to incorporate her kindness, bravery, intelligence, love of sports and the outdoors, sass, compassion, and wisdom into my very bones.

I like to flatter myself that maybe, by some miracle of nature, nurture, and mitochondrial DNA, maybe more of her is in me than I sometimes realize. I certainly hope so.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.

Always, always Oxford

Hello, world.

I've been in England for the past few days. I meant to keep this blog semi-updated on my trip--but I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow . . . so I guess I'll just have to photo- and thought-dump away about England. Oops. 

But I'm in England! I'm in Oxford! And it feels so good, as it always does. When I touched down in Heathrow, I almost started crying. (It was a bit embarrassing.) But getting into London (and then getting into Oxford) always swells my heart with joy and nostalgia. Always, always, always. 

And I think it always will. 

[One of my favorite parts of Oxford is finding hidden spots and alleyways. And I love how familiar places become new every season.]

[That British blue sky--it gets me every time]

[Also those British sunsets. Absolutely stunning.]

Obviously, one of the best things this time was seeing friends that are still here. And I got to introduce Sam and his friend Neil to Oxford and show them around. That was also wonderful. It's always beautiful to experience a place that means so much to you with a person who means so much to you. 

[At Christ Church, before Evensong.]

[Afternoon-ing at Vaults and Gardens.]

[Yayyyyyy]

And seeing friends at Oxford was the best. So good. So, so good. Here are a few people I saw whilst here (not all pictured--but each reunion pictured and not pictured was so good for my soul): 

It's been so nice to see familiar faces here. Oxford is timeless, but I change and friends change, but still, Oxford brings us together and reminds us of the times we were good, the times we struggled, and that there is more to life than ivory towers and academic bubbles, but meadows and life and belief and doubt and God. 

I will always be grateful for my time at Oxford. I'm also grateful for time beyond Oxford. But while I was walking to a gathering of friends last night and as I passed the Exam Schools, I was just hit with a deep sense of gratitude. Joy with gratitude. And as I pass in and out of opportunities and places and experience the ebb and flow of friendships and relationships, I hope that's the lesson I can take from everything: humble, grateful joy for all that I experience and love. 

Overheard at Sergovia

Today I ventured outside of Madrid and headed to Segovia, a medieval Spanish town set on a hill.

[A view for sore eyes. But not for sore feet. Because I realized I had to climb up there in 100+ degree weather. But, I did love how quiet it was there. It was refreshing after the hustle and bustle of Madrid.]

[The Jewish Section of town]

[Overlook]

[Marketplace]

[The Cathedral!]

[I never get tired of cloisters.]

[But really. I never do.]

[This castle (along with Neuschwanstein) is said to have inspired Walt Disney's Sleeping Beauty's Castle.]

[Love these alleyways]

[Aqueduct! "That's pretty neat." Yep. That's seriously what ran through my head when I saw the aqueduct. I think I was getting a bit dehydrated and I thought I was super funny.]

[Viewpoint from the top of the aqueduct. I almost didn't go up because it was so hot and I was almost out of water. But I did. And I'm glad I went up because I got views like this, and there was a charming man playing his accordion and singing in one of the alcoves, and it was quite lovely.]

One of the themes of today was things I overheard. For example, I heard some Russian tourists! I wasn't able to talk with them because they were in a different part of the bus than I was (and they ran off before I could talk to them/I didn't want to run after them because that would be #creepy), but it was fun to hear snatches of their conversation. It made me feel at home, actually, because I could understand them, and I can't really understand anyone in Spain.

(Although, I did manage to make a purchase entirely in Spanish--it was a bottle of water--and the woman of the counter was very kind and was commenting on how hot it was and said to me that I should drink lots of water. I understood that. And got to Segovia by myself. So, I'm definitely winning for today.)

Another great line from today was from a 10-year-old American girl who was tugging at her dad's backpack as they were walking up the hill and said to him, "Do you feel that? That is the weight of your parenthood."

I died. I almost burst out laughing. Too, too funny.

After Sergovia, I decided to go to the Reina Sofia to see Gurnecia. That is another post that will have to be written another day, since it really moved me and I'm still processing it, but it was incredible. Really, truly, incredible and moving.

[We're not allowed to take pictures of Guernica, but this was the courtyard of the Reina Sofia. I really liked the courtyard and the building itself. And it was a good place to relax from a long day and to process the meaning of human suffering after seeing Guernica.]