soapboxdiner

Passing Pieces

When I was in sixth grade, I first learned about the ancient world. It amazed me, fueled my imagination, awed me at not only the accomplishments these people mastered, but the way they thought and the way they lived. It was the beginning of a life-long fascination.

I recall not so much a teacher standing before a chalk board reading aloud in monotone. What I remember is her assembling groups of students each assigned a Greek myth to tell. My group laid out construction paper and drew the Twelve Labors of Hercules. I remember each group presenting our learnings.

I remember wondering, "What kind of mind could come up with such exotic gods, beasts and heroes? What type of people laid faith in such ignoble lords?" Many hours were spent in putting myself into those myths, imagining I was Artemis or Helen of Troy or Persephone.

I remember learning about Egypt that year. I remember meeting the Egyptian exchange student and hearing, for the first time, not only about being Muslim, but that there even was such a faith.

I remember diagramming the building of the pyramids and learning how the priests would level the foundations by flooding the pits with water. Pharaohs and ankhs and side-ways standing depictions of ancient animal gods and kings. Isis and Osiris and Horus, oh my. More fuel for my brain.

And so, when Steven and I went to the library yesterday and he pulled Valley of the Kings from the display shelf, it was like sharing that 12 year old girl's fascination with my son. That he, too, is inspired and enraptured with the history and imagination of the time... There aren't many times when a parent can look at their child and say, "This is a piece of me passed down." At least, there aren't many times when your "nature" is displayed in your children rather than what you "nurture" in them.

And as corny as that sounds, it shares with birth the miracle of creation. The same awe that is felt when you first have a tiny hand curl around your finger is rekindled in the moments you see yourself in your child. You wonder, how is it possible for any other living, breathing separate individual to have come from me? How is it possible that I am in him now, just as he was in me?

9:21 am - 10.25.02
previous | next

Home | Archives | Profile | Notes | DiaryLand | Random Entry