Little words of wisdom...

In celebration of Annie's birthday month-- from the archives.

June 24, 1997

Nick and Annie were having a terrible argument concerning how they were going to play a rain forest game next to the climbing tree. Neither one of them would give in. So I entered the battle. Nick was SO mad he stammered with a red face, "Mommy, I feel like calling Annie stupid!!!" Then he quickly added. "NO, I feel like calling Annie butthead!!!" I said, "Well if you do, you will be in alot of trouble." That was when Annie responded in a quiet voice with, "I feel like saying to Nicky, 'I love you.' " I said, "Really" She nodded. I added, "Then tell him that." She turned to him with eyes alive, and said, "I love you, Nicky." He made such a face and then said, "Come on, let's play." And all was well... until the next time.

time FLIES...

A Tribute to a Home

August 10, 1997

The parting hour draws near. Another home awaits! And it comes complete with the life and character that one might expect from a forty-five year old honey-brick house. It is a charming place to be.

But soon we shall remove ourselves from the only home this little family has ever known. Eleven years in-residence. How will the disconnection affect us? Only a bit more time will tell. Oh- the children, Mike, and Molly-the-dog will be fine. The four cannot wait to browse the park of their own backyard. But I think that I shall kiss each and every wall of this home goodbye. Yes, I think I shall. Just as I did when I was seven and we were leaving New York for the wilds of the west.

Change is always a disconnection of sorts. Letting go is paramount. But I do not change or let go without a reason for the bittersweet. This home was the framework of our family. It was palette and canvas for my creativity. Many, many things have happened here.

Come the eve of August 17 the house will be free of all our treasures. It will be a shell of memories. I will tour the property one last time. Will I be able to hear the echoes of Nicholas's cries for an eleven o'clock, one o'clock, three o'clock (and on and on) feeding? Will I be able to hear a one-year-old Annie's Italian-like calls for her "mama mia?" They were babies for only an instant.

My hands will graze the handmade oak mantle that Mike constructed. I will remember how Nicky insisted on putting a candle in the fireplace so that Santa Claus would not be frightened. I, too, will wish for a candle this night. Will the memories be as keen without the cues??

Some of you may say, "Doesn't this woman have a camera, for cryin' out loud?" And I will say to them, "I have one, thank you very much." This is different.

Then I will kiss each and every wall of our home goodbye... I will walk through the entry one last time... and out the door. I have another canvas to tend to! And there are more memories to be made.

This disconnection is an opportunity to change... to let go. A beautiful door has closed... but another has opened!