On the Table Where I Write
"Why do you always say what Julia says? I am tired of hearing from Julia."
He was being honest, and it made me chuckle.
Well, I am saying what Julia says, because I am writing these posts for the HighCallingBlogs book club. But if I tell the truth it is more than that. For better or worse, I like Julia. I don't agree with everything she says, but I like her. And it may even be possible that she has changed my life.
That feels like a big statement. And I suppose it is. For today I am not going to try to defend it. It is part of the table where I am writing my life.
This week, in her chapter "Roots," Julia opens with talk about her actual table. Funny, she is also writing in what she calls "high summer," on the Fourth of July. Gracing her table is evidence of the season... roses, rambling and red.
I look at my own table. It doesn't seem graced so much as cluttered, with seasons present and past...
Faded yellow table cloth, French style. A painted mug, Picasso colorful—given to me by a student once—and a sculpture of mother-and-child made by my older daughter. Stubs from bills, summer camp papers, a travel alarm clock, a recently recovered-from-being-lost voice recorder. The impressive looking heft of Julian Bell's book Mirror of the World nicely diminished by a dried up grape stem that looks like an old woman's hand.
My table says a lot about me. Things that Julia can't say. That is how it goes. Someone can change your life, but she can't live it for you. Your life is yours to write.
Mother and Child balance sculpture by Sara, age 12. Photo by L.L. Barkat.