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First Responders: Lifelong Friends
My friend and I are 7 years old. We are at my house and we’re trying to make sense of a terrible fact. Her little brother rides his bike out of the driveway. He is hit by a garbage truck. One moment he is here. The next he is gone. Her house is full of family but is strangely empty too. We never figure it out, but we try, together. Through the years we write letters. Our families have been close since she moved to Oklahoma at age 5. Through moves and adolescence, our friendship ebbs and flows. It’s always there. My other friend and I are 10 years old.…
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Letting Go and Overgrown Rose Bushes
I pick up my dad’s Navy uniform. I feel the scratchy wool and see the contrast of white stars on dark blue. It’s heavier than it looks and I wonder how he managed in the Hawaiian humidity. I study a picture of him in uniform, standing on the shore in front of a Navy ship. He is looking at the camera. Full of the future. I’ve had lots of time to think about my dad and mom as my sister and I begin the work of condensing the contents of their lives into a single room. But that’s not entirely accurate because the contents will actually be spread across the…
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Ten Things I’d Share with Myself As A Younger Mom
I reflect a lot lately. I feel emotions wash over me with each wave of change, not the least of which is becoming an empty-nester. Grown and Flown. That’s what they call it. There are things I love about this stage of life. Scott and I have time together; we have a granddaughter. My kids are working toward their goals. They’ve added wonderful people to our family. I cook less; the house stays clean. My to-do list is shorter. I go to bed when I feel like it. I know how this sounds to harried, young moms with kids who are yelling on the other side of the bathroom door.…
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The Biology of Change
I’m in the car with my son, his wife and their daughter. They are moving from a place they love to a place they are meant to go. Almost everything is unknown. I am along to help with my granddaughter. Our drive takes us through a town where I spent 27 years. And my kids know I will savor the trip on Route 66 through my childhood. We pull off the highway. I direct them to the neighborhood where I grew up, but I miss the entrance. It looks so different. As we drive the tree-lined hill that leads to my home, time shifts to a summer day in the…
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The End Signals A Beginning
I put the car in reverse and back out of the driveway. I begin a 14-hour drive to a college we visited once. She has a dream and she’s chasing it. I have a knot in my stomach and peace in my heart. I am at once happy, sad, excited, fearful and nostalgic. I am her mom. She travels to a beginning. I travel to an end. Her beginning leads to new friends, experiences, freedom, memories. My end leads to a house void of her laughter, her backpack on the floor, her school-day run home for lunch, her energy, her clothes pushing out the laundry chute, her friends. Her. When…
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Holes in the Sky
I listen to my son’s story of feeling his grandma near. He was alone. He was struggling with the language and culture in a foreign country. It was a difficult time for our family. She had been gone for 3 years. It’s not the first time I’ve heard the story. Hearing it still makes me cry. He shared the story at a family gathering last month, our first since her funeral. We’ve been together in small groups, but for various reasons, it’s been 18 years since our last family reunion. After eating one of my mom’s signature desserts, 34 of us sit close. We swap anecdotes, some funny, some poignant,…
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From Branch to Trunk
I wrap my wet hair in a towel after my morning workout. I hear the door close and Scott’s quick steps. I ask why he is back an hour and a half after leaving for work. I notice watermarks on his tie. Later I know they were caused by teardrops. Scott: “Here she is, Dad.” He hands me the phone and stands close, his arm around me. I hear my dad speak. Me: “What?”He tries again. I hear a solitary wail in the distance. The sound of grief. I sink onto the bench at the foot of the bed, and only then do I discern the wail rose from a place within me. …
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The Long Goodbye
Looking out the window, I squint from the glare of the airplane wing. The view of the runway gives way to unseasonably green hills then snow-covered mountaintops and fades into billowy white clouds. I feel nostalgic. Even though our entire family will be together next month, I mourn the loss of home base. We spent a quick weekend clearing our house. With the help of our local children and a friend (who has literally seen us through every challenge since we built our house), we deposited the final hard-to-decide-on items at Deseret Industries and storage. Gorgeous views from every room. That’s what I wrote in the home’s description, and it’s…
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A Dog’s Life
Scott picked up the leash and we walked out the door with Boomer like we had so many times before. Only this time we weren’t heading out to explore the city or to let Boomer stretch his legs. This time we were going to say goodbye. To him. Cancer. We’ve heard that diagnosis before – when medical tests found the cause of our 13-year-old son’s massive headache. This time the diagnosis was for our dog. We named him Boomer, a nod to Oklahoma, the place we raised our kids. The kids had begged and lobbied for another dog after Sundance. We told them to write a proposal detailing how this…
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Vulnerability and Victory in 7 million steps
The alarm went off at 5:15am. I wanted to hit the snooze button and snuggle deeper under the covers. But I didn’t. My husband was stirring, plus our friends would be in our driveway in 15 minutes. Every Friday (rain or shine, snow or ice) for more than 2 years my husband and I threw on tennis shoes and sweatshirts and met Tylee and Larence Searle for a 5-mile walk. In the stillness of all those mornings before the sun rose, we walked over 7 million steps or 28 million if you combine the 4 of us. It started as a way to exercise and quickly morphed into sacred time.…
