Charlotte is not referring to another word woven into her web here. She is at the end of her life, has done everything that she can do to save her friend's porcine life. But really, her masterpiece is about the continuation of life, as well. Charlotte is referring to her egg sac, which will, in due time, produce her 514 children.
Really, nothing Charlotte has done can compare to the accomplishment of bringing 514 new lives into the world, even though she will not be around to witness it. Charlotte does not want to tell Wilbur that she is dying, although she is "languishing" to tell him the truth. That's the real beauty of E. B. White's little book. It is full of promise, even though that promise may come at a dear price: Charlotte's death.
I know that I will never do anything greater in my life than raise my son and daughter. At the end of my time on this planet, they will be my masterpieces. Sure, I obsess about poetry and writing and publishing and teaching and jobs and money. I'm human, with that human drive for success. But success is such a relative thing.
I have to teach tonight. I've been up since 4 a.m., and my head is pounding from lack of sleep. From 6 p.m. to approximately 9:30 p.m., I will be in a classroom, pretending I know something about the art of film. I will try to appear wise and successful. If I do it right, I will leave the classroom with a sense of fulfillment. Accomplishment even.
Do you want to know what the best part of the night is going to be? Getting home and listening to my daughter tell me about her day at school. Going into my son's bedroom and watching him sleep for a few seconds, listening to his deep breaths. That will be my reward for this long day of toil. For a few blessed minutes, I will be happy.
That is my magnum opus this evening. My great work.
Saint Marty's headache is feeling a little better. Time to teach.
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| Magnum opuses come in all sizes |
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