My daughters have a flair for drama. They all disappeared upstairs one day and came down in fantastic outfits and covered with face paint. Reia dressed up Maika in hearts, and I’ve given her an extra dose of angst in this black and white effect.
Family
The puppy has landed
Yesterday we picked up our new puppy, Lady. She’s cute and affectionate. She has her own pink cage (the only color in stock…) and pink water bowl. Last night I pitched the sofa cushion next to her cage and slept there. That seemed better than having her whimper all night where the kids could hear her. We’ll save that for next Saturday night. So far she’s pooping and peeing outside. She’s the runt of her litter. We hope her small size and good temper will last. It’d be great if she keeps her looks,but we’ll accept her regardless. Her grandmother looks a bit like a Shitzu. As the child owner said, “She (the grandmother) married a big dog.” The mother is small, but looks a little squashed. She continued the family tradition of marrying large. The father, they think, is a dark haired, medium size dog with some shepherd traits. We’ll see how that all works out as she grows up. Here are some pictures I took yesterday.
At home in Phnom Penh
On Friday we chose a place to live — a telavang – a tall, narrow apartment (or townhouse), three stories high with a rooftop suitable for an urban garden. It’s a concrete box with high ceilings and smooth tile underfoot. It was cool inside as we entered, a good sign that it’s lined up to avoid direct sun. The “quiet” street outside is lined with similar apartments on both sides. It ends at a wall, so cars can’t pass through. A few children played outside. The street is wide, creating a community space that feels open and inviting: room to make friends, laugh, play, and bounce thoughts and prayers outward and upward.
Emily Shur stopped by
Last night my wife and I drove to Santa Fe and attended the public viewing of Review Santa Fe, a portfolio review featuring 100 up and coming photographers. It’s an international event, and I felt fortunate to be here for it. We were able to meet a photographer, Jerry Redfern, who has lived in Cambodia and worked in the surrounding countries. I also met his wife, a journalist who has written the best introduction to Cambodia that I’ve read. It’s very readable book I’d recommend for anyone traveling or planning to live in Cambodia. It’s called Cambodia Now. She also writes an award winning food blog.
My wife came up to me midway through the event and invited me to see a picture that left her “breathless.” I followed immediately, wondering what kind of picture would have such an effect on her. She led me to Emily Shur’s table. Last night she was showing a portfolio of images from Japan, forsaking the popular idea of Japan in favor of the “banality” that most Japanese see every day.
As she flipped through her stack of large prints, I did a double-take. I was looking at a picture of the apartment building where we lived for the past two years. Imagine the odds of that. Tokyo is one of the largest cities in the world. Our place was a five minute walk away a train station on the edge of the city, and she walked by and took a picture of our parking lot, and then we met and saw it in Santa Fe.
Here’s the photo as seen on her blog.
White Buildings, Takao, 2009 (Emily Shur)
Moving and letting go of the past
I’m sitting here on the verge of feeling overwhelmed. We’re moving out of this apartment in a few days, and we’re only taking with us what we can bring on the plane to Cambodia. Everything else will be sold or given away, except for the boxed books and memorabilia we’ll keep at Hitomi’s parents’ house.
Yesterday, I dropped off a toy stroller at a friend’s house. I hesitated to leave. I realized it was the pull of that stroller. One year we gave the twins a pair of toy strollers for the birthday, and they’ve never outgrown them. My kids have imaginations run wild. When they pretend, I can’t help but smile. Seeing the stroller go, I remembered the delighted smiles when my daughter first saw it.
Something significant is slipping away, but it’s not the stuff. Seeing these things reminds me that my kids will never be that young again. The lesson here is not to cling to what I can’t hold onto, but to open my eyes and see the blessings of today and live with nothing held back. Time is moving, and I’m moving with it. It’s only grace that gives me hope, because everything else is passing away.
November 8, 2004