They hadn’t seen him in three weeks. On Friday night, they spent over five hours with him. When they walked in the door, at the end of the night, I did a quick scan to check for rapid blinking, slumped shoulders, nervous pacing or shell-shocked expressions.
Nothing.
Will and Jen spoke animatedly about the event they attended. They talked of what they’d had for dinner and the stories shared. They spoke of the folks they saw.
They didn’t mention the baby voice, or the martyr tone. There was nothing about being overly embarrassed – other than the typical ways that all parents embarrass their kids. Nothing about hurt feelings, or insults, or critiques about hair, dress or table manners.
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I never got the hang of water skiing. I tried. I only ever managed to cling to the rope while I was drug around the lake, ending up with extra long arms to prove how hard I tried.
It’s November 1st. The bathroom has yet to be painted. The pumpkin vines are snaking through the dead tomato plants. The leaves are piled against the west fence. I have managed to put the Halloween decorations up on
The attorney 
Will’s genetic coding includes a large dose of pyrotechnics. He was interested in matches at an early age. Because I liked living with a roof over my head, I opted to teach him about matches when he first asked. I figure the more kids have their curious natures addressed, the more they’ll learn, and the less potential problems we’ll have. Better he learn about matches while I’m with him, than while he’s sneaking around by himself in the garage, surrounded by gas cans and lighter fluid.
I play mental tricks on myself. When we wake to nine inches of new snow and a temperature of 15 degrees, I tell myself, “Hey, we have lots of firewood, the furnace is working and the skiing will be great.” When our typically bright blue sky is overcast and gray for the second day in a row, I grouse a little and remind myself that I’m getting lots of chores done. When my kids complain about having to do lessons in the morning instead of riding their bikes or skateboarding, I remind them, “You know, you guys could be sitting in a desk at public school for seven hours.”
Just received an email from a dear friend. Her youngest has gone off to college. She lives on the other side of the country, and yet I can feel how her life has shifted in a plate tectonics sort of way. I’d like to be camped at her house with cocktails, dinners, movies and whatever her favorite distractions may be. I know that the gesture would be appreciated, but that’s the last thing she would want right now.
