The Bits and Pieces I Don't Want to Forget

I won't bore you with them all, but here are a few of the photos I found myself compelled to take of my boys in the days after reading The Road.

The way they all sit on their feet, like I do, like my dad does. The way their hands look at this age. My mom tells me my youngest has the hands I had when I was little. The sprinkle of freckles, the way they sit and watch TV in the morning while eating their cereal.

This book stirred me, but it can only be for the good. The wake up call to always appreciate what we have, the little things that make up our days.






Let Them Be Little
Billy Dean

I can remember when
you fit in the palm of my hand.
You felt so good in it;
no bigger than a minute.
How it amazes me you're changin' with every blink.
Faster than a flower blooms,
they grow up all too soon.

So let them be little,
'Cause they're only that way for a while.
Give 'em hope, give them praise,
Give them love every day.
Let 'em cry, let 'em giggle,
Let 'em sleep in the middle,
Oh, but let them be little.

I never felt so much
in one little tender touch.
I live for those kisses,
your prayers an' your wishes.
An' now you're teachin' me
how only a child can see.
Tonight, while we're on our knees, all I ask is:

Please, let them be little,
'Cause they're only that way for a while.
Give them hope, give them praise,
Give them love every day.
Let 'em cry, let 'em giggle,
Let 'em sleep in the middle,
Oh, but let them be little.

The so innocent, precious soul:
You turn around, an' it's time to let them go.

So let them be little,
'Cause they're only that way for a while.
Give them hope, give 'em praise,
Give them love every day.
Let 'em cry, let 'em giggle,
Let them sleep in the middle,
Oh, but let them be little.
Let them be little.

The Road, By Cormac McCarthy

I just finished The Road (in about 17 hours, sorry I can't help it) and it leaves me with lingering feelings even now, 3 days later. It is the story of the journey of a father and son in the post-apocalyptic world, full of horror and death, "each other's world entire" . The author drives home this feeling of despair effectively through his sentence construction and spare use of frivolities such as apostrophes and quotation marks. It was strange at first, but in this world of destruction, with each character fighting for their lives, it feels right to leave them out to add to the desperation.

I read the horror for what it was, I cried for the people and their struggles. I longed for a happy ending, but what ending could there be in a gray world of ash? I thought about the choices I would make in this situation and realized I couldn't even think when I put my children's faces in place of the boy's.

After I finished and closed the book, I continued to think about the story and the feelings it triggered in me as a mother. I noticed I was taking photos of my kids a little more in the days after the book. Not posed pictures, but pictures of the way their hands look, the way they sit while eating breakfast, the expression on their faces during a long car ride. I feel the need to capture these little things, now, before I forget. Will I remember the shape of their boy fingers, the pattern of freckles on their boy noses? Not during the apocalypse, but in five years?

They are growing and changing, and though we don't struggle as they did in the story, their "boy-ness" will be lost to me all too soon and I want to remember. It was the memories that brought the man peace and hope at his lowest.

This book is short, the language requires some concentration at first but it is worth it. I hear they are filming a movie based on this story in Pittsburgh - but there is no way they could translate the horrors to film. Your imagination will undoubtedly render the movie disappointing.