Being thankful…even when it’s hard

11 24 11_0742

Thanksgiving has never been my favorite holiday.  Don’t get me wrong – I love sitting around a table with my family and eating.  Those are, in fact, my two favorite things in the world.

I don’t have anything against Thanksgiving. I’ve just never been inspired by it.  Maybe it’s because we are lucky enough to routinely sit around the table and eat giant meals with our families.   Maybe it’s because Thanksgiving has none of the magic and majesty of other holidays. Maybe it’s because Thanksgiving is entirely… contrived.  It isn’t about anything except being together.  Being thankful.  Which is, of course, exactly why some people love it.   I get it. Read more...

Continue Reading

Three Boys and a Girl

There were three little boys at my brother’s wedding this weekend.  Two of them were mine.

That night, filled with so many firsts, was the greatest night in their little lives.  The night they were no longer just children in a sea of adults.  The night they were grownups too.   They donned tuxedos and bow ties just like all the big boys did and checked the football scores while they waited.

11 08 14_0254

They solemnly walked down the aisle of the church, clutching the rings in their sweaty anxious hands.  Halfway down they forgot to be nervous, briefly breaking character to wave and smile at familiar faces in the crowd.   They sat in the pew – the very first pew – and poured over the wedding program, tracing over their names again and again with fidgety fingers. Read more...

Continue Reading

What Do You Say When Words Aren’t Enough?: A Sister’s Love Letter to Her Brother

Ever since my brother got engaged 4 months ago, I have been thinking about my rehearsal dinner toast.  But every time I sit down to write, my attempts come up feebly short and I go back to mainlining M&Ms and coffee.  I can count on one hand the number of times in my life that I have been at a loss for words (this is the fourth in case you’re curious) and I don’t know why.   It might be because I subconsciously feel the need to overcompensate for the absence of our witty and eloquent father, who no doubt would have given the greatest toast ever.  It might be because I am trying to figure out how to get through the whole thing without blubbering. Read more...

Continue Reading

I Will Always Know

According to National Geographic Kids, 97% of parents secretly eat their kids’ Halloween candy.   Which means that 3% of the population is just lying.
IMG_20141104_120334
One of the underappreciated privileges of parenthood is raiding your children’s candy stash after they go to bed.  The trick is to pick things that they (1) don’t like or (2) have a plethora of.  For years, the boys only liked fruit candy (Skittles, Starbursts, gummy anything) which left me free to enjoy all of the chocolate based items with impunity.  Billy, who shares tastes similar to the boys, had to be more circumspect. Read more...

Continue Reading

For All the Saints

I have not been to church since my dad died.  It’s not because I am angry or because my faith has been shaken.  Or because I am worried that the sound of my heels clicking on the stone floor will trigger a memory of the last time I walked down that center aisle, holding my mother’s hand.

07 10 14_0001No, it is none of those things.  It is simply that my heart was not yet ready for the enormity of emotion that fills me every time I sit in those pews.  I still don’t know if I am ready.  But today is All Saints’ Day. Read more...

Continue Reading

How Love Changes (And Why That Isn’t a Bad Thing)

Last week marked the fifteenth anniversary of my first date with Billy.  I know most people probably don’t celebrate such anniversaries but my parents always did (February of 1967 in case you were wondering). Their first date was a comedy of errors. My mother, having been dragooned into a blind date at Yale, disliked my father on sight. My father, already cranky due to lack of sleep, was further peeved because he thought he had been assigned to another girl and thus spent the weekend trying to steal what turned out to be his own date.  It was a rather bumpy start for two people who would, by the end of that first weekend, begin a 50 year love affair. how love changes and why that isn't a bad thing Read more...

Continue Reading

To My Father On His 66th Birthday

Dear Daddy,

Oh how I want to talk to you today. There’s so much I’ve wanted to tell you, so much I want you to know about the last three months.  When we were living with mom this summer, I would often come downstairs in the middle of the night and walk into the den, half expecting to find you reading on the sofa.  I so wanted to curl up next to you like I did when I was younger.  To have you put your arm around my shoulder and hear you say “tell your dear old dad what’s bothering you.” Read more...

Continue Reading

My 20th High School Reunion: What We All Learned. Together.

This weekend is my 20th high school reunion. That’s what I tell people anyway, because it’s just easier. But high school is a bit of a misnomer for us.  Our class of 100 went to school together for twelve years.

Twelve years.

When you go to school with people for that long, it’s not just high school. It’s your whole childhood.

You walk with each other down the long hallway on the first day of first grade and you pretend not to be scared.  You lose teeth together.  You chase each other on the playground.  You get lice.  You learn bad words.  You get braces.  You get left out.  You fall in love for the first time. Read more...

Continue Reading

So You Had a Bad Day…

Of all of life’s pleasures that are wasted on youth, the most overlooked is the luxury to indulge in a bad day.

Children can throw themselves on the floor wailing and moaning over a seemingly inconsequential disappointment.  Adolescents can walk around sullen and slam doors, just because they feel like it.  Brokenhearted college kids can curl up in the fetal position, play sad songs, put a straw in a bottle of wine, and sleep for 18 hours.  Because sometimes it feels good to just wallow.

But wallowing is an extravagance for the young. Read more...

Continue Reading

What I Learned On My Summer Vacation

Last week marked the official end to summer.   This was old news to many of us who said goodbye to summer weeks ago.  Perhaps at the exact moment we were photographing our children (looking the best they will look all year long) holding their Pinterest-inspired first day of school signs.  We have already grudgingly readjusted to the strictures of routine and schedule and simultaneously given up caring what they look like when they go to school.  Nearly one month in to the school year, my boys left the house looking as if they had not brushed their hair in 4 days.  And last week I let them wear stripes on stripes.  Don’t judge. Read more...

Continue Reading

Make a Wish

I got home from the Virginia game late on Saturday night and this was waiting for me:

IMG_20140907_091824

A container of personalized New York Football Giants M&Ms – a present from my college roommate who had to suffer through years of my football obsession while she was trying to get her molecular biology homework done.

As I was standing in the kitchen eating them (I hadn’t had dinner after all), the words jumped out at me.

Make a wish.

That is the essence of loving any sports team, isn’t it? Read more...

Continue Reading

Are You Ready for Some Football Part II: How Football Finally Made Me Cry

You can read Part I of the story here.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve cried this summer.  I’m fine, remember?

I didn’t cry at my dad’s memorial service.  In fact, I reveled in the celebration of his life and took odd comfort in consoling the people who came and cried on my shoulder.

I didn’t cry as I spent 8 weeks living in my parents’ house, the house I grew up in, surrounded by his things. I looked at his clothes hanging in the closet, at his briefcase filled with law review articles, at the pictures of him scattered on tabletops and bookcases. I liked seeing those traces of him everywhere, as if he was about to bound through the doorway at any moment, ready to kiss my mom on the forehead and tell the boys a silly joke. Read more...

Continue Reading

The Family We Choose

08 12 14_0001This is what 38 years of friendship look like.  Easy.  Real.  True.

38 years ago, our mothers asked each other to be godmothers to their new daughters.  27 years after that, we were each other’s maids of honor.  Fast forward another 3 and we are godmothers to each other’s babies.  And all the moments of all the years in between are just too good to reduce to words.

When we were younger, I idolized her incredible spirit of adventure, her fearlessness, her inimitable ability to make everyone laugh, her giant heart that embraced everything and everyone.  I still do.  But now I admire how she didn’t sacrifice those qualities on the altar of adulthood.  Instead, she effortlessly parlayed all of them into her marriage, her children and her work. Read more...

Continue Reading

I’m Fine

DSC_4520

“I’m fine.”  I don’t know how many times I have said that over the last 6 weeks since my father died.  My father died.  Those words still seem odd to say.  Odder still that they flow trippingly off my tongue as if I were simply recounting where we went for summer vacation.

It is a well-established fact that I am a regular crier.  I excel at crying.  Happy tears, sad tears, exhausted tears, frustrated tears, nostalgic tears.  They have all been a part of my weekly repertoire for 38 years.  Sappy commercial? Check.  Wistful memory of the boys when they were babies? You bet.  Random song on the radio? Yup.  Hard day?  Too tired?  Proud parental moment?  Bad blisters?  Yes, yes, yes, and yes.  You name it, I have cried because of it. Read more...

Continue Reading

Love Never Ends

00631_n_10acylv3s50419

When I was seven years old, a particularly fierce thunderstorm swept through town one night.  One of those southern summer storms that shakes the walls of the house and the nerves of its occupants – especially the little ones.  Sensing my palpable fear, my dad quietly took my hand and asked me to come watch the storm with him.  I shelved my trepidation and accompanied him to the sun porch on the side of our house that had floor to ceiling windows.

As the storm put on a magnificent display, I sat on my father’s lap and listened to him quietly talk about calculating the distance of the storm by counting the seconds between thunder and lightning, why light travels faster than sound, and the origins of electrical pulses in the sky.  Every time I jumped at the sound of a thunder clap, he gently put his hand on my forearm and immediately my heart rate slowed down.  When the storm finally ebbed, I realized that I was completely relaxed. Read more...

Continue Reading