Day 56

It struck me as I was walking into school this morning how many parallel lives we live, or how many different roles we fulfill in our lives.  Yesterday I was in London in the spring, a mother and grandmother, last night I was back in wintry Massachusetts, a wife and lover.  This morning I woke up and had no idea who I was for a minute or two, and then discovered that I was me, Anne, in my own familiar house.  A few minutes later I had the distinctly strange experience of talking to Emma and Luna on flat-screen Skype whereas only a few hours before I had held them very three-dimensionally in my arms. After that I prepared all my bags for school and drove down the cold morning highway to the city on the right side of the road again, listening to my audio-book which is very entrancing.  When I arrived at school I had to claw my way out of 19th century New Zealand (the audiobook, The Luminaries, winner of the Booker prize, youngest author ever at 28!) and become an Art teacher of international children, which I haven't done for a very long week.  

And now I sit here hugging the woodstove, an exhausted blogger, struggling to keep my eyes open.

The kids at my school all speak at least two languages fluently, usually three. They are constantly dipping in and out of these different tongues with such ease.  It is a wonderful gift to children, to be raised in a bilingual household.  Growing up with two languages grows that little brain in a phenomenal way, and makes it easier to pick up other languages later.

And children are past masters at switching codes, talking one way with their friends, and an utterly different way with adults.

I am so tired that I am just going to put up some of my pictures of different skies on different days.  They're like fingerprints, no two ever completely alike.