chaperone
Windows still open tonight before the cold rolls in. Two marionettes staring just above my head, hang on the top bunk. Crackly candle. The tink tink of the radiator, predicting the future. I swept the floor, I made a tea. I plugged the children into computers to steal this moment, though they’d be happier if I were actually watching them play the wizard math game.
We went to The Met today. It felt like I had just visited, but in reflection, it seems as if that was in September of 2020. Memory tricks. [a sip of tea] Gratitude to my sister for getting us all up and out of the house on a Saturday morning when the weekend pull to stay in place wearing my nightgown all day can be so strong.
Temple of Dendur, Arms and Armor, The American Wing. In America, A Lexicon of Fashion.
Because we were with the kids, the visit feels as if we scribbled circles and spirals all over familiar terrain. Them, constantly opening and closing their maps to orient themselves, turning, spinning their sneakers on the marble. One kid dug into my purse, locating a small notebook and a pencil I’d squirreled away for a moment like this, demanding a return to the fashion exhibit: I need to sketch the big dress.
I followed her in a blissful silence as we wound our way back down the stairs to the lower level, the drone of the accompanying music increasing in volume as we got closer. I followed her to the voluminous blue dress and she stationed herself in front of it, sketched it quickly, then sketched three others in quick succession, choosing only highly structural pieces that she could translate onto paper with ease. Her work is impressive. I am impressed by her. After she was finished, she tucked the notebook away into a crocheted purse that used to be mine along with a pair of my old glasses frames, the lenses removed so she could see.
It’s so rare that I get a moment to step back and look.