My son and I stood at the summit of Baldy Mountain, on what felt like the top of the world. He wanted me to take his photo sitting on the edge. I have no idea what was going through his mind as he sat there, looking toward the dissipating haze of New Mexico’s eastern horizon, but my spirit brimmed with the emotional memories of the day he was born.
In the months before his birth, I voraciously read every how to be a parent manual out there. I believed that parenting could be treated as an academic enterprise, just another subject to learn, an expertise to be acquired. When challenges arose, I’d just flip to the right page for the answer.
The day we went to the hospital to be induced, I felt confident that we had this thing under control. I’d put myself through Dad 101 and was ready to roll.
Then everything went to hell.
Continue reading Giving him the love and space to create his own future
My work parking lot is adjacent to a large cemetery. This morning, a dense fog enveloped the trees and headstones, and reminded me of the way the memories of those lost fade with time. It’s up to us to honor them by sharing their story along with our own.
Years ago, my uncle sent each of his nieces and nephews a crystal vase in memory of my grandmother, who loved her cut flowers. This morning, the sun cut through that vase to leave a rainbow through my kitchen. Good morning, grandma. Thanks for the smile.
I wonder if the early inventors of photography understood the impact they’d have on our humanity. These static snapshots awaken our memories, fill us with nostalgia, and remind us in both joyous and heartbreaking ways how these moments of life and the people in them are ephemeral.
I am so thankful for the life I have right now. No buts. No conditionals. I am simply thankful. In less than an hour, the kid and I will be on the way to spend Thanksgiving with family in Connecticut. In a year where I learned that nothing is guaranteed or permanent, I will disconnect and wade through that imperfectly beautiful chaos that family often is, so that I can cherish those moments of perfection that only family can be.
I encourage each of you to do the same. Put down your phones and be present where you are. We’ll all be here to enjoy your photos and stories on the flip side.
Happy Thanksgiving, my friends. Know that I am thankful for the unique perspective each of you brings into my pretty amazing life.
I chose my steps carefully around the furrowed trunk of the black walnut. Ripening husks littered the floor of the Illinois Arboretum nut grove, greasy black flesh waiting to stain a poorly placed shoe.
I closed my eyes and took in the earthy lemon scent that filled the air, a fermented sweetness that fell on the good side of decay.
I remembered the time I was hiking with scouts, and surprised them by finding a just-fallen fruit along the trail. Many of them had enjoyed walnuts in chocolate chip cookies, but wouldn’t believe that the green orb in my hand was one and the same. In a moment of lost discretion, I plunged my finger into the flesh, digging towards the hull that would prove to them a walnut grew inside.
Three weeks later, my fingers lost the dark hue of the juglone that stained my hands.
Continue reading The lesson of the walnuts
My son opened our bedroom door this morning, with a “Happy Thanksgiving! Is it okay if I let Gem and Tigerlily in?”
“Of course,” we chimed back.
Within seconds, eight paws, two tails and a preteen turned our bed into a Thanksgiving morning of smiles, purrs, snuggles and laughter.
As I watched my son close his eyes and go nose-to-nose with an equally winky Tigerlily, my heart melted. The compassion that he has shown with our new kittens astounds me as I watch their mutual bond, pure and unconditional, grow each day. Continue reading Thank you, unconditionally