Letter to Dragon: Our Red Letter Day

Dearest Dragon,

Recently we had a shining, glorious, red-letter day.* I knew it was going to be glorious from the moment I woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed (as Baba would say) in time to hit the erg, do yoga, and meditate before you and your sister burst forth.**

After we bundled your sister off to Flying Deer, I turned to you. “Would you like to start with school lessons or a yoga class before we do the sauna?”

“Yoga!”

Soon we were sitting on our heels and bending our bodies to the side with our arms holding opposite elbows.

“Can you feel that stretch?”

“Ah, huh.”

“Try to breath with each bend.”

“Okay.”

I closed my eyes.

“Can she see us?”

“No, my love, this is a recording.”

Thug!

I opened my eyes and turned my head to you.

Instead of hinging at the waist you had decided to launch yourself onto the sheepskin like a rocket each time you bent over to the side. Thug! Schmug! Thud! Schmud!

“Look Momma! I am a ball!”

“You are a ball. A goof ball!”

I closed my eyes and kept breathing.

Forty minutes later. “Are we finished yet?”

“Not quite yet.” I opened my eyes. “See if you can straighten your arms all the way up. There you go.” Again, I closed my eyes.

BUMP! THUD. I kept them closed and smiled. No tears, no problem.

Dragon’s P Poster for the alphabet wall.

After class we had our second breakfast, made our letter P poster to go on the wall with the other letters of the alphabet, and circled heavier items on pictures of scales in your math book. Our 30 minutes of Kindergarten learning time completed, we headed outside to make a fire for our weekly sauna.

In the rain.

“I want to light it!”

“Okay, but you need to do it quickly because the water is making the paper and the kindling wet. Quickly, Dragon. Otherwise, it is going to be harder to light.”

“Where do you want me to put the match.”

“Right there.” I showed you with my finger. “See that wick? Quickly, my love.”

Your small hand held the match gingerly and tossed it near the area I pointed. I moved the still burning match into position. “See Dragon, I put in a candle to make sure that this would make a big fire. The key with starting a fire in the rain is that it has to be big enough to stay lit even with a bit of wetness - and it is most fragile at the beginning.”

We both watched the licking brightness. It faltered, sputtered, smouldered. Shielded above by wood, but damp from sideways rain, our flame looked very small and alone.

“Momma, I don’t think this is going to work. Give me another match.”

“Please.”

“Please, may I have a match?”

“Hold on, we just need the wax to melt onto the paper and then we are going to be golden.”

Suddenly the sputtering flame became a puddle. Liquid fire flowed forth.

“There it is, we are all good from here. I am going to go and wrap the boxwoods from the winter wind.”

About two hours later I called out from inside the steamy warm dark space. Sweat was pouring down from me. I had sung and prayed and listened. It was time to commune.

“Dragon, are you ready to come and join me?”

“Okay.” The doorway flap started to move.

“Hold on my love, first go pee, get naked, and then open the door. I want to keep in as much heat inside as possible.”

“Okay.”

I added another ladle of water to the stones and finished my last prayer just as a column of light cut into the dark orange scented cloud.

You were all tousled thick hair, bony limbs, visible ribs, and pale skin. “Be careful of the rocks.”

“I know.” On your hands and knees you crawled in.

“Do you want to leave the door more open.”

“No, I am good.”

“Okay.”

I was languid and relaxed. You were not yet settled by the heat. Your energy rattled and wiggled in the dusky wet light. You sat up, you lay down, you stretched your head towards the entryway, you sat up again.

“This is so nice Dragon that we get to be together in here.”

“I know. I did such a good job helping you make this.”

“You did so much good work helping me do this, that is true! We also are getting better at it because we are learning what works well every time we make a new one. Though,” I paused, “I am not sure this one is big enough for all four of us.”

“Oh yea yea yea yea yea, it would be too small for all four of us.”

“But right now it fits us perfectly!”

“But it won’t when I am a weir.”

“A weir?”

“Yes, a weir.”

“What is a weir?”

“You know Momma,” I could see your exasperated face turning to me, your gesticulating hands, “a maaaannnnn. In Latin.”

“Oh right! Of course! A vir!” Holy moly Dragon, I am so proud of you.

“Yes, a vir. But by then we will probably need to rebuild it anyway.”

“When you are vir, for sure. Right now you are a puer and it is not a problem.”

“That is right, I am a puer. Bean is a puella. You are a femina. Dada is a vir. I am also a frater.”

“Darn right you are, smart boy.”

Dragon, I am so thrilled you are being exposed to the 3rd grade doings of your sister. There are definitely been times when I wondered if anything was sinking in at all for either of you.

See what I know. (very little, smile)

*I have been rereading the Guestbooks from Barnard’s Inn Farm and the earliest Guestbook has a lot of references to “Red Letter Days” and “a glorious Red Letter Day.” In homage to those entries, here is mine.

** And yes, I am fully aware of expectations and beliefs setting this into the route we took. It is delightful to chronicle regardless.