The Journey Inward

The other day, Bridgette posted a beautiful piece called Photography:  Beaver Moon. It featured an excerpt from the children's book, We're Going on a Bear Hunt.  It took me back decades to when I was a little girl and my mother lead my Brownie Troop in a "Bear Hunt."  She was our troop leader and ran our meetings, helped us make crafts, chose service projects for us and taught us new games, but the memory that Bridgette helped me recall was how I loved her Bear Hunts.  We'd sit in a circle at the start of the meeting and after a greeting, we would beg her to do Bear Hunt.  Her hands would begin the rhythmic slapping of her thighs and we would join in, matching her speed with a delighted squeal.  As she began the journey, we would repeat after her.  She'd take us through meadows, across streams, over fences, through the woods, under a fallen tree branch and so forth.  Always she would get to the object and say, "Can't go over it," and we'd echo "Can't go over it," "Can't go under it," "Can't go under it," "Got to go through it," and she'd make the motion and sound, her hands parting grass and swishing or her arms circling in a swimming motion as she blew bubbles.  We would giggle and follow.  

But the best part was when we saw the BEAR!  She'd gasp!  We'd gasp!  And then she'd take us quickly backwards through the intricate path she'd taken us in on.  We would laugh and follow her and get so excited.  I have no idea if she was accurate every time, but I thought she was the smartest, cleverest, most creative person.  I would look around at my friends, enjoying this ritual, enjoying my mom, and I felt so proud that she was my mother.

My mom was our troop leader from Brownies right through 6th grade when we disbanded. I can't say I was as thrilled to have her as a leader as we hit middle school, but that woman took us camping, brought us to nursing homes, took us caroling, collected pine cones and empty lemonade cans and corks so we could make crafts for every holiday.  Half of those years she worked full time teaching at our local high school.  

I never thanked my mom for the time she spent with my friends and me.  I never thanked her for being our leader or told her how much I enjoyed all that she dreamed up for us.  I can only hope she saw the joy on my face and that was thanks enough. Or maybe when she watched me become leader for 2 of my 3 girls, she knew I understood the value of her time and energy and devotion.

Photo:  Henry, Me, Juliette Low and dog.  Birthplace of Juliette Low.  Savannah, GA.  8.11.21 by JMR