Last Wednesday the UPS man – – whom Joe likes to joke is at our house every single day – – rolled up with the original Star Wars Trilogy. The kids waited almost a year for it and their hooting and hollering could be heard up the hill across from our house.
We watched A New Hope that night after JohnJohn went to sleep. Joe came home from work “early” to mark the occasion and the four of us sprawled in the dark on the couch munching and chatting and taking it all in.
The next night – – Thursday – – we sat again in the dark, this time in the still-not-unpacked office. Molly curled up on the couch. I sat in a chair, feet up on the ottoman, as JohnJohn climbed on my legs, and off my legs, and on my legs again. Joseph stood between us, winging his double-headed lightsaber to and fro, as we watched The Empire Strikes Back.
Semi-burned popcorn kernels from my third try (Try not. Do, or do not. There is no try. — YODA) littered the floor. Sippy cups sticky with seltzer and grape juice “cocktail” lined the plastic coffee table. I wondered aloud, yet again, whether any food made it into the kid’s mouths.
Sometime in the middle, Joe joined us after a late day at work, and immediately announced it the best movie in the trilogy. He remembered aloud that Han Solo cut open the tauntaun because Luke could not do it himself. We explained how that saved Luke’s life.
Before he conked out for good, JohnJohn, overtired because he’s giving up naps, grabbed my phone and squawked until I unlocked it. I gave in, hoping to ride it out in quiet until the movie was over. He snapped this blurry photo of that moment in our lives.
If I could hand it over to a sculptor to carve (it doesn’t even have to be Michelangelo), I would. It’d be easy to catch the beauty: the arch of my 5-year-old’s foot, the coil of the beloved blanket, the flat of his hand, how the saber glistened in the glow of Hoth.
But I’d hope that sculptor caught the significance of that mundane moment too: A child, free from real worry, utterly engrossed in the good fight.
Your personal sculptor is carving a person, thing, or event from the last month of your life into the glistening marble of immortality. What’s the statue and what makes it so significant?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us SIGNIFICANT.