Thursday, July 1, 2021
Dear friend,
How do you come home after you’ve been away for a while?
Empty the sand from little shoes, heap the laundry beside the washer, take stock of odds and ends in the fridge. Nest the duffle bags back together and slide them under the bed.
It used to be I’d make notes in the passenger seat while we drove, the kids asleep in the back. Trees would whip past and I’d get a picture of something I wanted to try when we returned. Ideas for the garden, a way to smooth a bumpy spot in our routines. Even on vacation, with new perspectives and fresh scenery to untangle us from our usual rhythms, my thoughts still gravitated toward home.
How do you go away when you’ve been at home for a while?
Yesterday Oregon reopened. I dropped Sky off at her first day of summer camp, and took my mom to the airport. Getting on the freeway to take Iris to her 6-month-checkup, it felt like life was picking up speed again.
After over a year of being grounded, it takes some getting used to, this return to flight. I feel simultaneously like I’m leaving home and returning to it. Yet there are ways of being and thinking that I’ll never return to, a deeper understanding of the interconnectedness of some of our biggest challenges— climate change, systemic racism, economic oppression, violence against women— that I’m learning to carry with me into this broken-open world.
How do you come home to yourself when you feel disoriented by all that’s changed?
Lately I’ve been keeping it really simple. I pull my mind back to the ground underneath me. On my walk to pick up Sky from camp, I wear my thinnest-soled shoes, the ones starting to unravel at the toes, and deliberately choose the path with more texture, so I can feel the change from smooth concrete to rippling pebbles, from bunchgrass to spongey athletic track.
Earthing, I think it’s called. This thing my kids do without even thinking. Kicking their shoes off when they get home, running barefoot in the grass. The baby on her blanket lifting her toes toward the sky, as she speaks to the trees.
What I’ve been making
I wrote “The Pregnancy Sandwich” late into my third trimester of pregnancy with Iris, and it’s an unusually funny essay, for me. (I kind of think it would be hard to write an unfunny essay about sandwiches. If you know of one, send it my way.) My essay went up today at Coffee + Crumbs and I’d love for you to read it, comment, and share it.
“On Rest, Hammocks, and Wasting a Life,” my essay about James Wright’s famous poem and the way my interpretation has shifted as I’ve grown older, was published at Tweetspeak Poetry last month. Have you deliberately spent some time in a hammock this summer? What does it mean, to you, to waste a life? Comment on the essay here, or hit reply and tell me about it.
More sewing. I’m halfway through my destash project and enjoying the process. Favorite recent makes include a Forager Vest and a pretty rose-print cloth diaper cover. When my mom visited this past weekend, she helped me tackle a confusing pattern, taught me how to use my machine’s buttonhole foot, and helped me think through some ways to use up my remaining fabric. I love spending time with my mom and feel grateful that we share a love of sewing.
What I’ve been reading
How to Resist Amazon and Why, by Danny Caine. Last month, Lyle and I got to go on an actual date. We browsed at Powell’s and then took a walk over Tillikum Crossing. I picked up this zine from the owner of indie bookstore Raven Books because I’m trying to kick my pandemic-fueled Amazon habits. I worked at an indie bookstore back when Amazon was just for books, and it’s not news to me that Amazon sucks. But this zine helps provide a little more context and breaks down exactly how Amazon (still) sucks for small businesses, especially booksellers.
Grow Wild: The Whole-Child, Whole-Family Nature-Rich Guide to Moving More, by Katy Bowman. I shared this in my last newsletter, but it bears repeating because it is just so good. (And, I’m still reading it.) If you want to feel better in your body, build meaningful experiences in nature with your family into your everyday routines, and equip your children to lead active lives in an era of unprecedented sedentarism, you should read this book. I’m already feeling the benefits of simply choosing to sit on the ground more throughout the day. I’m also enjoying browsing the #furniturefree hashtag to see how families build more varied movement into their indoor spaces.
Pilu of the Woods, by Mai K Nguyen. Sky and I picked out this graphic novel at Bridge City Comics on her birthday, and I was not prepared for how moving it would be. This little book tells the story of a girl named Willow as she navigates loss and the search for belonging. Her relationship to the natural world helps her learn emotional regulation. There’s an impressively complex through-line on the “monsters” of anger, and at the back, there’s a nature journal and a recipe for mushroom rice, or kinoko gohan.
“The State of Waiting,” a beautiful longform essay by my friend Caitlin on the details of immigration that get left out of typical discussions. It’s a love story, and the story of a Yemeni couple separated by civil war and immigration policy. Read it here.
What’s bringing me hope
Friends, family, and neighbors reaching out in the heat. During Oregon’s unprecedented heat wave, temperatures reached 117 in some parts of Portland. We were lucky in that it “only” hit 108 in our shady backyard, where we rigged up wet burlap and a fan to keep our chickens alive. People checked in on one another and shared ice and water with folks living outside. It’s not enough, but it’s something. I’m feeling hopeful that this experience of extreme heat will help turn more of us toward real solutions to address climate change.
The Open Window is a delightful weekly newsletter from poet Erika Oakvik. I was introduced to Erika’s poetry during Ruminate’s Happenings. I am really enjoying her brief letters, which always offer me a new way of seeing things, and usually include a “poem for your pocket.” Sign up here.
Ditto Kids is an anti-racism resource for parents and kids ages 3-12. My kids and I are just starting to explore this twice-yearly magazine, starting with issue one. It’s got spaces to draw, stories with fill-in-the-blank reflection questions, and kid-friendly introductions to big concepts like stereotypes and culture.
Our Little Free Library. Last month we installed our mini library out front near our mailbox, in a half-barrel planted with nasturtiums. It’s been fun watching it fill with books. A neighbor even left us a note! This has been a bucket-list item of mine for years now, and I’m not sure what took us so long. Do you have a little library? Do you want to start one? See ideas on making your own and find out more here.
What helps you feel grounded?
Comment below or send an email to melissapoulin3@gmail.com.
Thanks for reading and subscribing. I’ll see you back here next month(ish).
Love,
Melissa
P.S. Scallops can move, and they’re shockingly fast.
P.P.S. If you enjoyed this friendly letter, go on and share it with a friend!
I love you, Melissa, and I love your newsletter! Just subscribed to Ditto, thank you for that. Someday when we're old and gray I will write a very serious piece on sandwiches and I will dedicate it to you.