hiking without happy meals; a modern paradigm chronicling the struggles, pitfalls,
& successes of life, running, writing, urban farming,
& home schooling in these crazy modern days.
Life is our classroom.
When Beach was little, a 2 yrs old Beach-Bum, we would gather up our things packing them into two back packs one for me the other for her because we had to go to College. Five days a week we would drive to the train station hop an inbound train to the center of town where we would join the crowd of students transferring to the University Line on the platform in the middle of Main Street in the shadow of two huge city buildings. Beach would look up and point at each towering mass of glass and steel saying, "Don't fall on me!" in her most serious 2 yr old voice.
After getting on & off the University train we would walk from the Stadium Stop across the south west corner of campus. Beach, no matter the season in little red rubbers walking by herself carrying her own bag the whole way. We named the buildings as we passed: Chemistry One, Chemistry Two, Anthropology, Algae (aka Biology), Consumer Studies, the last being her building. We lived on campus for 12-16 hours a day for one and a half years.
There is a lot to remember about our time in college together. Naps in the library, reading in the quad, how she used to sing Opera style Operettas to the passing students, eating from the bookstore...Between lectures I would wave to the Director of the daycare reach over the play yard fence and scoop her up taking her with me to study and to nurse. What an unusual kid, so adaptable.
What I remember the most was the time we spent in the Museum. It was the closest place to a natural environment for a mother and child campus had to offer. It had cozy nooks, and puzzles, there were books, and an old sofa, the hall of man had soft benches and more books, it even smelled right like wet mittens & steam.
So although the new building, respectively the NEW museum is breath taking and it is about to become a familiar backdrop to this chapter of our lives. I have a secret little wish for one last chance to visit the old building, to see it stripped down & empty, to say good-bye.
I suppose like Beach the museum had to grow up.
In the vastness of the new museum I want to whisper 'don't fall on me.'