A Night of Magic Piece of the Pie

By Sharon Dunski Vermont

I recently treated my children to a night of outdoor theater with the play Annie at the Muny. Despite the fact that the air surrounding the outdoor theater was 98 degrees and humid, my two daughters were filled with excitement and anticipation. As we walked toward our seats, we ran into another family that we knew. As luck would have it, their seats were just next to ours. Their kids and mine talked non-stop as we forged ahead to our place in the theater.

Before we approached our seats, the other father stopped to take his son to the restroom and his daughter stayed and waited with my girls and me. Without hesitation, the three girls began playing various hand clap games. I am always amazed when I watch young girls play these at how they all seem to know the games and the songs. Where do they learn them? I remember playing similar hand clap games as a child. Yet, at this point in my life, this whole phenomenon is quite foreign to me.

As I looked past my girls and their friend, I noticed three other girls standing off to the side, watching as my girls clapped their hands in different ways and sang their rhythmic words. Suddenly, one of these girls walked over to our group and announced that she and her friends knew the game that was being played. Without question, my daughters and their friend opened up their circle to include the other three children whom they didn’t know. The air became filled with six young voices chanting and clapping together as they played the game that was so well known to only them.

I looked at some of the women standing next to me and we all smiled knowingly. “Why can’t grownups be this accepting?” I asked the other mothers. There was no need for an answer. They all knew I was right.

When our friend’s brother eventually emerged from the restroom, the girls finished their game happily. We all went our separate ways as we headed towards the theater and very quickly the play began.

My children were mesmerized by the songs and the actors and would only take their eyes off the stage long enough to take another bite of their popcorn. The night was clearly a wonderful success. However, as I thought about the entire evening on our way home, I had trouble deciding which was more magical; the play itself or the events that had happened before the acting even began?

*Sharon D. Vermont's blog "Piece of the Pie" is her opinion; not specifically supported by Weiss Communications, Inc.

A Moment in Time Piece of the Pie

By Sharon Dunski Vermont

A moment in time can last forever if you let it.

Last week, after losing my third friend/classmate this year, I really started thinking a lot about my life, my family and my mortality. As cliché as it may sound, things can change in an instant. And you just never know when that instant is going to be.

When I made a condolence call last week, the sister of my deceased friend lamented that they had never taken the updated family picture they had been talking about. In fact, she told me, sadly, she didn’t even have many recent pictures of her sister. She badly wished that she did. Yet, who knew they would never have a chance to take more photos?

You just never know.

As I thought through all this over the course of a few days, I realized what I needed to do. I walked into a photography studio near my house and made an appointment for a family picture. True, we had just taken one a little over a year ago. Yet, I didn’t want to ever regret not having a picture showing my girls’ long hair, missing teeth and innocent smiles. I didn’t want to have to look back one day and think, “We should have …”

Now, my husband complained a bit about the whole picture idea. He has never been a sentimental guy and having his picture taken is near the top of the list of things he hates to do. Still, he cooperated — albeit a bit unhappily — with the whole thing. So, three days ago, the four of us dressed in coordinating outfits and headed for the picture studio. Quite, honestly, the whole family had a good time!

A few hours and a few dollars later, we left the studio with smiles, laughter and a bunch of beautiful pictures, several of which are already hanging in our home. I find myself staring frequently at the pictures and smiling — really smiling. Even though those photos show only one moment of one day in our life, they represent all of the love and security and sense of completion we feel as a family. I am quite certain that years down the road, when I see those pictures from this past weekend, they will help me recall so many more memories than just that one day. And I want to make sure that I do remember all of the good and wonderful parts of my life. After all, memories are really all we have in the end. Right?

I guess the bottom line is two-fold. First, never procrastinate: You never know when time might run out. And secondly, never underestimate the value of each and every second. Because sometimes, a moment in time truly can last forever.

Looking for Peace A Piece of the Pie

By Sharon Dunski Vermont

Right now, I’m at work and it’s my lunch hour. So, I’m sitting at my desk doing what I do best; consuming chocolate. And yet, despite my attempts to cure my woes with junk food, I don’t feel any better.

Three days ago, a girl whom I’d gone to school with from kindergarten through our senior year passed away unexpectedly from complications of a chronic illness. She was a wife and mother, a sister and an aunt. She was only 40 years old.

Life just seems so unfair.

After high school, I lost touch with this girl as we went our separate ways in life. Yet, we reconnected briefly a few years ago when she worked at a bank where I had an account. On several occasions, we chatted about our lives and caught up on what each of us was doing. Then, she got sicker and had to quit work. I never saw her again.

Now she’s gone, and I have so many confusing feelings inside. This girl was not a close friend of mine. Still, she touched my life in many ways, and I wish I could have had the chance to see her one last time and say goodbye.

I never will understand the unpredictability of life. And I suppose that, maybe, we aren’t supposed to. There must be a reason why such terrible things happen. There must be some rational explanation for it all.

I just want to know when this will all make sense to me.

Tonight after work, I’m going to stop by the family’s house and pay a condolence call. I’ve done this many times. But usually, it’s been when an elderly person passes away. What am I supposed to say to this family? How can I console them when I, myself, am angry at what’s happened?

As I’ve said and written many times in the past, life is too short so we need to try and live it well. I just wish I didn’t have to be reminded of this fact so often. This is the third friend I’ve lost in the past year. And all of them were only 40 years old. I’m having a rather difficult time believing in the goodness of the world right now. Young people just aren’t supposed to die.

My chocolate is gone, and my lunch hour’s about done. I certainly haven’t solved any of life’s problems just now. Still, I feel better just putting it all down on paper.

My goal for now, simple as it may be, is to find a sign, any sign that things are going to be okay. And I’m not going to give up till I find one.

Out of Sorts A Piece of the Pie

By Sharon Dunski Vermont

The house is completely quiet right now, except for the distant sound of my dogs barking outside in the yard. The beds are all made. The dishes are put away. In fact, the house is cleaner than it has been in a really long time; maybe ever. I’ve been off work the past two days with no schedule, no demands. I should feel completely carefree and happy.

And yet…

Despite the fact that my world is, for a change, completely neat, orderly and chaos-free, I feel very out of sorts. You see, my two daughters went away to camp two days ago. And life just doesn’t seem right without them here.
It’s not that I’m sitting around moping for them. I’ve had coffee with a few friends, run errands that begged to be done for weeks, and yes, cleaned the house till it shone. So, I’ve been busy.

However, even though I usually feel much better when everything around me is in order, right now I miss the bustle and the confusion and the out-of-control feeling that comes with having my children by my side. I’ve heard many moms rejoice when they have an empty house. They’re happy to have their freedom back, and I totally understand. Yet, I simply don’t feel that way. I guess my sense of self is so tied up in being a mom that without that job, I’m pretty lost.

I think, also, I feel so much more at ease when I know exactly where my girls are and what they’re doing. It’s a crazy world out there, and I always want to be there to protect my children. But, I know deep down this is my issue and not theirs — which is why I even let them go to camp in the first place. I realize my girls need to learn to become independent and self sufficient; and what better way than to spend a week away without me? I understand I must learn to let go a bit. It’s just very, very difficult to do.

When you’ve carried a child inside of you for nine months, the thought of sending him or her any farther than the next room is terrifying. Hence, dropping them off in Rolla, 90 miles from the safe haven they call home, was beyond painful for me. I did manage to hold back any tears I had inside. But my stomach was knotted, and my chest was tight. It just seemed all wrong leaving my girls so far away.

All of this merely foreshadows what’s to come in not so many years down the road. I need to slowly prepare myself for the day my babies actually grow up and go away permanently. But, I’m simply not ready to think about that. Not yet, at least.

For now, I’m working on reminding myself of the good things about this whole camp experience. There are so many benefits for both the girls and my husband and me. My daughters are getting a week without the rules of our house, and my husband and I actually have managed to watch several movies without any interruptions. Now that truly is an accomplishment!

Still, in four days and two hours I will get to hug my children again. At that time, life as we know it will begin again, craziness and all. And I will, once again, feel happy and content.