Leave, As It Should Be

Long, meandering strolls through parks on warm spring days, occasionally making small talk with other parents, but largely ignoring them to be wholly concerned with the beautiful child in my charge: this is what I had envisioned my paternity leave would be like when I traded the office for the stroller a month and a half ago. It has taken until today, May 1, a whole month and a half into my leave, before I finally had a morning that resembled anything like this vision.

I took Lucia to the deCordova sculpture park today, taking advantage of 65º and sunny skies (and free admission on the first Wednesday of every month). This is the sort of thing that I remember doing all the time when I was on leave with Celia. Time has been tougher to manage with Lucia, partly because of the increased drop off/pick up responsibilities involved in having one child at (sometimes) full day kindergarten and one at preschool/daycare. But I also blame my lack of adventure on the weather. Truly, it was an unforgiving and cold early spring, and not one that welcomed me and my youngest daughter out for any walks.

Today was different, though. The season is now in full bloom. And I need to cram in some of these trips before June 3, on which day my life will either return to or depart from normal, depending on your perspective.

I had been to the deCordova sculpture park twice before: once to scout locations for a wedding that I was photographing, and then again for the wedding itself. It's a wide open, rolling space inhabited by both imposing and delicate works of art. An overturned ATV greets you at the entrance; up further, a series of giant rusted cylinders cascades down the hill, seemingly ready to rumble towards you should any piece be dislodged. The sculptures live on grassy knolls, in the woods, and on small paths leading every which way around the museum.

The overall effect of the objects' placement is to make everything surrounding the sculptures, from the benches to the trees to the stone walkways, feel like works of art in their own right. That traffic pilon that has been removed from the ground--is it making a statement about open access for all? Or is it an actual traffic pilon that was removed earlier in the day to allow a groundskeeper to drive his truck down the path? It's all open for question.

I pushed a sleeping Lucia around in the stroller and enjoyed a quiet walk around the grounds, which were still largely deserted at 10 am. Soon the parking lot filled up with school groups and like-minded parents. And, of course, their children--two- and three-year olds seemingly hell-bent on climbing everything in sight, or at least running perilously close to the driveway that snakes up to the museum.

I'll have to take Andres and Celia here someday. They will enjoy the freedom to explore, and I know that the discovery aspect of the sculpture park will appeal to them too. I can already imagine Andres following a path into a woodsy area and finding a work of art, previously hidden from view. "Daddy!" he'll say, "look! A sculpture!" Celia will trail along behind him, no less interested. "Daddy!" she'll say, "bruddah found another sculptuh!"

On this morning, though, I was content to be there without my two older children. It was nice not to have to play the role of pater horribilis, unlike many of the other parents trying to enjoy art in spite of their kids. "Charlie, get over here!" yelled one mother. "Away from the road! CHARLIE! If I count to three and you are still there, then we are LEAVING. One...two...three. OK, Charlie, we are LEAVING." I have no idea whether they packed up or not. But I do know that I have made a career out of similar threats, which often leave me feeling powerless or overbearing, and which have approximately zero impact on my own kids' behavior.

Lucia eventually woke up, and I fed her on a bench overlooking one large installation made of wood. I know nothing about this type of art--how people create the pieces, why they do it, how they make a living, or why some are considered museum-worthy. My only metric is, are they interesting? On this day, this piece was interesting, so I didn't mind staring at it for 20 minutes while she ate. But it was also a beautiful day, and the birds were chirping, and I was doing something special with my daughter. After a month and a half away from the office, I finally felt like I was on leave.