Last week Soma and Emma discussed different proverbs. Soma explained that one of the proverbs was about how a new person can be very enthusiastic upon getting a new job, eager to prove their worth they do a great deal, but as time goes on they lose some of their enthusiasm and do not do as much. Emma then wrote, “It is like a new husband.”
When Soma asked her to say more, Emma wrote, “Just being funny.”
And she was. Really funny. In fact, I burst out laughing. One of the great things about someone who says the unexpected is that it often is very funny, and that she also intended to be so, makes it all the more joyful. (There is nothing more upsetting and hurtful to the other person than laughing at something that strikes you as funny, only to realize the person speaking did not intend or mean to be funny.)
I cannot anticipate what Emma will write. The way she phrases ideas and thoughts, even questions are unexpected. I am biased, I know, but I see her way with words as one of her many, many talents. The beautiful and unexpected way in which she will phrase a thought or express a feeling fills me with emotion. I am in eager anticipation and gratitude for every word she writes. I sit and watch her and am mesmerized. There are few things I enjoy doing as much, truthfully.
At the moment Emma’s two favorite songs are Clint Eastwood by the group Gorillaz and Cage the Elephant’s Ain’t No Rest For the Wicked. Like me, when Emma likes a song she will play it over and over and over. When I was a teenager I wore out record albums (yup, that’s how old I am) from playing the same favored song repeatedly, causing the album to get scratched from my insistence that only the one or two songs be played and not the record in its entirety. Dancing to those favorite songs is an added bonus. Emma loves to dance and so do I, something my husband loves doing as well. Listening to music requires no speech; no words need to be exchanged. Given how hard Emma must work to write her thoughts, it is nice to do something we all love, that isn’t hard work.
Yesterday Emma and I were discussing death, something Emma speaks about regularly in repetitious utterances about various pets and people who have died. We have talked about death before, but this time Emma wrote a sentence that I couldn’t make sense of. It was at the end of a 40 minute session, so I figured she was tired and we’d come back to it later. Since our time was up, I left the sheet of paper with Emma’s sentence on it, on the table. This morning, just before I left for work, I reread the sentence.
“Hysterical rant on death is assuring story, but does nothing to understand reality of story.”
And I began to wonder whether her spoken phrases, “Bertie died, Bertie has to be careful. Yeah, Bertie got old. Bertie lay down and went to sleep. Bertie died…” about my very old cat who was seventeen when he finally died, is a kind of calming self talk. Perhaps a way to make the unknown less frightening and yet she still knows that even in trying to soothe her fears, the repetitive talk does nothing to help her understand.
So this afternoon, I will ask her and afterward we will listen to Gorillaz and Cage the Elephant and dance.