Excess is the poison of reason

My kids and I spent an evening out back on the deck carving pumpkins. This was a planned event for my son, but a surprise for my daughter. At lease it was until Boo (my son) spilled the story to his sister within seconds of seeing her. He’s not very good at keeping secrets.

So we did our homework as quick as possible. After eating toasted cheese sandwiches, we went out back to turn a perfectly good pumpkin into a mangled ‘work of art’. Boo has been waiting for this all week and wanted to tear into his work without even considering a plan. Typical 6 year old, to say the least. His older sister had a different plan. All she knew was letters were in the pumpkin carving kit and she wanted her name imbedded into her design. So she painstakingly starred at hers until dad would lend a helping hand.

It was then that I seen it. Both of my kids sitting together on the deck, working together for a common, yet differing cause. I wanted take a picture of the moment, but couldn’t. Why not, I ask my self. I love my digital camera. Maybe it was because my camera has always been unable to capture what my own eyes see. Maybe I didn’t want to walk into the house and leave the moment, for fear it would not look or feel the same upon my return.

I thought to myself “what would life be like for them if they would not be together anymore?” “What if the bond they have made were broken by another?” They have only been with each other for about 3 years now, but act just like they grew up together. Just like your typical brother and sister. Typical in the way brothers and sisters are. They help each other, they hate each other, they love each other, they drive each other bonkers and they fight with each other. Sounds typical to me. How scaring would it be if they were to be separated permanently? My son would be crushed. He looks up to his older sister in a way I never thought he would. My daughter, on the other hand, has grown up in a world of constant uncertainty, change and disappointment. She is so easily assimilated. Her opinion is only viewable in very discrete and defining moments. She does and tells as told by her mother and a few others. I can only hope that I am one other those others. Would she even miss this home? I find pleasure in believing that she would, but her own feelings are deep and unable to be reached on most occasions.

So there they work. I find myself helping both, but mostly her. My son has focus (relative to his age) and a will to express his feelings. She does not, or at least is unable to do so, except for wanting her name to be placed into the works. It seems that my daughters name is the only thing she hangs onto as being her own, self-respecting item about herself. Something that is different from most all she encounters in her life. Her name is the only thing about herself that she can truly say she loves.

So there the pumpkins sit on the front porch steps, with candles inside flickering. In traditional fashion, they are displayed for all who walk by to view. If only the ones look at them know of the true gravity they display.