Togetherness.

When I arrived home the other night, my little V was already in bed.  Tyler said she had been awake only moments before and had been asking for me, so I crept inside her room to say goodnight.  

Her tiny half-dark room with the Peter Rabbit night light shining in the corner, her santa blanket left over from Christmas, her little pink face bundled in damp bath-time hair;  this is my beautiful daughter finding peace at the end of her day.  And she was sleeping, but maybe sensing I was there, she all at once looked up and said "mama, I was worried about you".  



I feel like lately she's been sensing my unease with the world.  She watches from the window while I take out the trash, as if I'm crossing the freeway--  just for 20 seconds I am gone-- and when I come back in she wipes her little crying eyes, saying I just want us all to be together.

We hold our children in our hands like tiny glass-boned birds.

--they are looking, longing for togetherness where ever it may be.
Because, at least for my child, this feeling of togetherness, is the food that fuels her day and settles her worried little heart.

I wonder of these people-- who hug their weapons close as second skin-- fighting for the right to fill each home with the artillery of armies-- and who think the answer to a tragedy is to make each man an island.
How could you stray so incredibly far?  --So far from that childhood longing to approach this world together?

You must have forgotten what it's like to watch from that lonely window as your mother takes out the trash.      

Kitten toddler road trip Christmas

Hey, January.  It's nice to see you.  I love the fall, all dressed up with pumpkins and magenta trees--  and the year's end with Christmas bells and lights and fa-la-las.
But January is nice in that way that most quiet things are nice; it just lets you be.  It is the return of everyday life.  Of making simple dinners; of working; of walking to the bank; of feeding the pets; of going to bed and waking up in the morning and making oatmeal.

And as we settle back into the everyday--  after being distracted for a good three months with holidays and honey hams-- we are given this unique chance to see clearly again life in its natural state.
January, you're a good friend who listens openly to hopes and concerns about the future.





But back to December.  We made the decision this year to take a road trip down to California for Christmas, and to bring our kittens with us.  Definitely an idea that was two parts wonderful and one part crazy.  In case there was any doubt, let me tell you-- kittens do not enjoy 13 hour car rides.  Neither do 3.5 year-olds. But, all things considered, everyone did very well, and California welcomed us with it's familiar open arms.

To everyone in Chico:  Thank you for providing my girl with endless walnuts to crack, and for sharing your sun spots (Sammy dog).  Thank you for welcoming me as a guest into your zumba class, and for providing endless warm fires in the stove.  Thank you for the rice chips, and for every thoughtful meal. Thank you for looking at my daughter with stars in your eyes, and for giving Tyler and me the chance to slip away and see a movie for the first time in over a year.  Thank you for the beautiful tree to decorate, and for the fun cousins to play with, and for the beautiful gifts.   Thank you for Penny, and for all of the wonderful community of people who care so much about us.  Thank you for the rainbow sprinkles that were the highlight of Violet's world that night.  Thank you for a trip to Coit tower; I have always wanted to go!  Thank you for your warm send off, it kept us going all the way home.

To everyone in Berkeley:  Thank you for the trip to the merry-go-round that remains a magical memory in my girl's little heart.  Than you for holding my kittens in your arms, and welcoming them under the Christmas tree and laughing when they were naughty.  Thank you for providing so very many loving cousins, but especially thank you for Rose.  Thank you for ensuring my girl that Santa would come, and for finding a stocking for Violet, and also one for me and one for Tyler (even though we are old and unsure if Santa really exists).   Thank you for making three batches of alternative flour cookies, even though you thought they tasted too much like beans.  Do you know how amazing it was for me to eat cookies again?  Thank you for lighting the Swedish candle thing every night for Violet, and for running a bath for me when I was too confused to figure it out.  Thank you for the endless warming meals at the big round table, and for several special eatings-out at Vic's and Lily's and Juan's.  Thank you for so much brother fun.  Thank you for helping me feel like Berkeley is still a place that part of me can very much call home.  I can't wait to see you again in a month!