Once I wanted to be Auntie Mame, eccentric, independent and free. I wanted to travel the world and collect adventures like a child collecting sea shells at the shore. I wanted to know only the most wonderfully interesting of people in all walks of life. I wanted to sit in the salons of Paris with the likes of George Sand and Chopin, sipping champagne while listening to sonnets put to melody. I wanted to roam the cafés of the art world as fluidly as a pastel chalk of Toulouse-Lautrec meandering down cobblestones and brothels. I wanted to befriend the neighborhood fish monger and drink wine with the proprietor as we sweep the floors and wipe the tables. I wanted to argue about politics, philosophy and religion with Emerson, Thoreau and Madame Blavatsky. Once I wanted to be Auntie Mame, taking my nephews and nieces to far and exotic ports, opening their minds and planting seeds of question and wonder.
Now I am a mother of my own children, charged with young minds eager and thirsty for adventures of all sorts. Dangers abound at every turn of a corner, ready to gobble up my children like a monster in the night. Once I wanted to be Auntie Mame, but now I know the indescribable joy of living intimately with children of my own. Children whose sweet souls shine through their eyes and grab my heart with a delight that takes my breath away. Children whose laughter and song make me as giddy as a young girl in love. Yes, I have given my heart away to be trampled and bruised but it is worth every second of anguish when I hear their voices as they bang through the back door. " Hi Mom! I'm home!" Yes, I am home.
Ron Stewart Portraiture