Christmas always makes me feel melancholy. I don't think it is a lack of presents or cookies or family or traditions - I have as much of those things as I desire. Each year when this emotional deflation occurs, it surprises me. The unanticipated sobering, despite festive bubbles imbibed, seems to sneak up on me … Continue reading Ghosts of Christmases Past
Tag: sadness
I don’t hate guns
I hate what people use guns to do. Guns scare me, but I don't hate them. Today, more than two dozen people were massacred in a(nother) school shooting. Twenty-seven people, including 20 children, woke up today for the last time. I went for a run tonight and thought of the terror that was school today … Continue reading I don’t hate guns
Rivers of green and blue tears
There was a boy at school today wearing a Shenendehowa letterman jacket. A legitimate, old school jacket with well-worn leather sleeves which were a bit grungy at the wrists. Traditional and classic, it fit him well. When I asked how he had come to own such a vintage jacket, he quickly, and proudly, said it belonged … Continue reading Rivers of green and blue tears
Because I can (And that’s an assertion of celebration, not a boast.)
I ate a September tomato with salt, I went for a run, I breathed air that was the freshest of fresh, I bought a cooked and chilled whole lobster and made myself an amazing salad for dinner, I climbed between semi-crisp cotton sheets and stretched my tired legs long, I lived.
Summer must end
I don't know about you, but there comes a point in life when I crave routine. July and August are luxuriously lacking in structure for me and the boys. Meals come at odd times and both nights and mornings are much later than usual. We seem to use a lot of gas - for the … Continue reading Summer must end
Observations from my couch
I slept on my couch last night for the first time. Of course, I've dozed off there before, but this time it was intentional. It was a warm, humid night and I wanted to be in the back of my house to avoid hearing the garbage trucks in the early morning. It had been … Continue reading Observations from my couch
Minding my Ps and Qs or adventures in parenting Quinn
My youngest son, Quinn, was born when I was 38. My pregnancy was considered "premium" and I had obstetrician appointments so frequently towards the end of my 40 weeks, that I joked I was going to pitch a tent in the waiting room to eliminate the driving back and forth. Maybe the humor I was … Continue reading Minding my Ps and Qs or adventures in parenting Quinn
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