the mud

This morning I am creating a nest. I am building it from scratch with spare parts that have been left around from another owner. We are vacationing in a house on a lake near Grandfathers, since that currently has no running water. We love it up here. It is a place that is carved in our hearts and our stories.  Since this is a foreign house, I am trying to make it feel like home. We have been here for 2 days and now I see the needs and small fixes I can do to make things more ‘ours’.  I have brewed coffee and put away the dishes from last night. I have placed a small rug by the door to catch our shoes that are caked in pine needles and fallen beech leaves and sand from the beach. I have moved the ottoman away from the chair it belongs to so that we have an extra seat. We have more people than it sits. Charlie made a chair with two pillows and leaned them against the end table. We are all working to build the nest. I am using pillows and blankets which I found in an upstairs closet to ma

 What is grief? It is standing in the shower and  you are suddenly crying and then you are sobbing. And you barely thought about it in the two days since you heard  your Uncle Rich passed. You thought about your dad and your cousins and your aunt and how sad they must be and you checked in on your dad. "I'm so so sorry." And you went to work and you did what you had to do. And now you are ready for another day and you are thinking of all the things and then you are crying and you are little again and vulnerable  and your heart hurts. And you remember everyone. Medford Lakes and a swimming pool and laughing so hard  and dancing around a Christmas tree and fireworks by the lake at night. And you can see his face and all their faces smiling Aunts and uncles and cousins and brothers who aren't here. And you remember his voice, deep and laughing, and you remember his kindness and his advice. "Are you taking vitamin C, Joannie?" You see all their faces and you mis

  Dear College Kid and Post-Grads,  Welcome Home! You are finally here! And we are so happy to welcome you. It's been a long semester. You've faced trials and tribulations. You still need to meet your own benchmarks and others you've exceeded. But it's over now. For now, you must rest. For now, you are released from your duties and obligations for studying and group projects. You don't have to worry about homework and practice and when to wake up and when to eat. You are home. You can sleep until noon. We are here to love you back to health and wellness and give you that unmistakable feeling of home.  Some things haven't changed here at home. There will be bacon and eggs for breakfast and we will get cream donuts from McMillan's tomorrow. We will have bagels and cream cheese one morning. Some things are new to us. We will order the meat lover's pizza. We will make room on the shelf for your protein powder. Some things have changed. We painted the front d

 I've been in college far too long. I've failed terribly and I've thrived epically too. But after a while, you should just be done. Like Sam Hartman. My family knows that I'm not a big fan. If you are 24 playing against kids who are on average 19 and 20, maybe it's time to move on. I mean I know it's tempting, but really, maybe you need to play against people your own age? Sorry, Sam.  I'm not done for those reasons and I don't mean that I'm a student either. I'm a mom of college-age kids. For the past 6 years, since 2017, I have had one or more kids in college. And those are where I've had my toughest losses and my greatest gains. It hasn't been easy. Some days I'm on my A-game. Some days I'm on the DL - the disabled list, or the down low. I shouldn't be in the game, but they still play me. I don't have any good answers and I forget to turn off my teacher voice. It's different having kids in college than when I actual

No one hangs on my leg any more as I leave the house. Only the dog. No one wants to know where I'm going and when I'll be back. Only the dog. No one responds to my texts about shopping when I ask what everyone wants. No one runs to greet me when I return home. Only the dog. No one gets underfoot to carry the groceries in and help unload. Only the dog. Everyone comes when I start cooking dinner and wants to know what that smell is. Even the dog. 

Every day in August is a Sunday... maybe you've heard this before, probably from a teacher. Every day in June is like a Friday, every day in July is like a Saturday, and every day in August is like a Sunday. All that anticipation of BTS. My nieces have a rule not to use the "S" word. You know, the one that starts with s,c,h. Shh - don't say it. That time of year when everything ramps up - kids, paperwork, forms, shopping, planning, packing, scheduling, and trying so hard to fit in one more moment of summer and to APPRECIATE it before it's all gone. I don't have any advice. I don't know how to relish the days or to make them last longer. I don't know how to slow things down. I think trying to just makes it worse. I've tried countdowns and picturing today as the last day of summer and none of it works. I asked a teacher friend how many days he had left before returning to school and he said, "Oh, I don't count." So I'm trying that.