Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Beauty and Risk In Another's Words

"I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming."

— Rachel C. Lewis

Thursday, May 1, 2014

Teen in the house

Well friends, it had to be something big to break my blogging dry spell. My stories are still churning around in my head, but life intervenes to keep them locked up. I think we are all waxing and waning with this, taking a break, starting back up with a fresh energy. Right bloggy buds?

My fresh energy today comes from the Milestone of Milestones, the Big Day of Big Days.... the First Teenager In the House. Talk about nostalgia - all week I have been looking at old videos, thinking of his first words, his funny little phrases, oh gosh. The misty eyes, they well up at every moment!

I can only be referring to sweet Cole.

This guy.
What is better than new birthday shoes? Not much.

This morning I made random announcements like "Oh Cole, you were born exactly 11 hours from now, in the evening!" "Well, right about now I was vacuuming the house, ignoring the beginning contractions..." "Ooh, ooh, I was talking to Aunt Vera and Emily now, nervously asking for advice..."
Frankly, I am a little impressed at the staying power of my memory. Thirteen years later! Ta-da! But don't ask about last week. Good luck with that recall. All hail the power of pregnancy & birthing hormones, searing in those selective memories.

I want to say so many things to this boy. Things that may be unsaid in the scurry from school to homework to baseball to bedtime. 

You are handsome and athletic, and every time you make an awesome play at short stop, I wish your Pop-pop was around to see you play ball. You make it look easy. Not with the flashy swagger so commonly associated with athletes - but with a quiet ease. Calm and collected, you are so solid. As lead-off batter, confident and assured - you take the weight of being first and make it happen at the plate. Nobody wants that job, did you know? But you get out there, you start things off, you do what needs to be done - with the right attitude. Keep that attitude. That confidence tempered with humility.

You are kind and loving. It warms my heart to hear that you befriend new students, and think of how lonely and out-of-place they may feel. That empathy will carry you far, your entire life. Never forget to spend a moment in someone else's shoes, and act accordingly. And never stop asking if you can hold a friend's new baby - that tenderness and care for the little ones is a treasure.

You are bright and clever. Yeah, I said it. Despite my constant pushing and questioning and driving. Even though I want to see those perfect grades, I guess I want more for you to be happy - and that means that I have to back off. It's hard, you stinker. You drive me crazy with your announcements of quizzes you forgot to study for: "Oh yeah, we had a science quiz today." Cue Mom, going ballistic, starting into a tirade of how you should write in your agenda. Cue Cole, smirking and waiting for me to shut up. "Relax Mom, I got a 97." You've got my lucky streak, so I shouldn't complain - but still, you should study, kid. I never used that luck for school, preferring to put in the hours. Maybe you've got something there, after all.

Things like this should be said. At least on a birthday. At least now and then.
Happy 13th, Best Boy.

Love, Mom