fancy

In fifth grade, Mrs. Rullman made us all take calligraphy – a whole class of 11 year olds learning to write elegantly. . . and I loved it. I have used this gift in utterly random ways for the last 25 years, and a month ago, I decided I wanted to bring calligraphy pens to Kenya so that I can make Christmas presents this year. I accidentally double ordered, and ended up with a menagerie to bring back with us last week.

Today, when I got home from the hospital and Belle said “play with me, mommy,” we had an impromptu calligraphy lesson. Computer paper strewn on the floor and utter concentration from my oldest and impatience from my youngest. They were fascinated by the old fashioned ink cartridges popped into the traditional Schaeffer pens, but in the end, they liked the extra wide markers and unlined paper the best.

In the midst of termites climbing out of our dining room railing and bumpy roads and making things from scratch, sometimes a simple thing like a calligraphy pen – with its elegance and potential for creativity is a necessary reminder of home before this home. It ties together the past and the present. It draws a fluid line from one era of life to another.

These links are beautiful and essential. For every day,  we remember again  that on the other side of the ocean, we are still the same people – with the same quirks and idiosyncrasies – and it seems each random talent has purpose here, however simple.

And tonight, my fifth grade calligraphy brought laughter and a little bit of fancy to our life in Kijabe.