last week i finished reading traveling with pomegranates by sue monk kidd and her daughter, ann kidd taylor. and of all the books i’ve been reading lately, this is probably one of my favorites, because it’s one of the most thought-provoking books i’ve ever read.
i noted a couple quotes i really loved. this one made me think of my mother and i:
she has been the keeper of home for me, and i have been the keeper of journey for her. and now we look for the lost portion in each other.
sue monk kidd, traveling with pomegranates, p.123
i was preparing for an interview last week with an academic program staffed and serviced at a nearby community college when i started thinking about literary analysis. and i thought about this quote, and how i would analyze it. i’ll be honest: i didn’t think i would get very far.
does it strike you as strange that sue calls herself the keeper of journey? i mean, i get it, but it was a little weird to me. the way she describes her mother, keeper of the home, is far more logical. after all, we’re accustomed to keeping in that sense meaning to maintain. when you keep your home, you maintain its neatness and its character. you maintain its identity, if you will. and those are all logically things you can maintain.
but journey? how does one maintain journey?
what is a journey? is it a physical removal of self from the familiar? or can i journey, emotionally or spiritually in some other way? say, within the confines of my own home?
what do you think? i have thoughts, which i’ll bring to you on thursday. but now, i’m interested in what you have to say, how you see this paradox unfolding.