Life Halved
-
Small Moments
I’m watching cars approach the terminal when I hear a familiar voice. I turn to see my 7-year-old granddaughter sprinting towards me. She runs into my arms. A man watching the scene says: Someone is happy to see you. Which is part of the magic of grandchildren. They are so happy to see you. And it fills my heart. Her other grandma and I meet her for lunch at school the next day. She guides us through the lunch line–how is it always the same?–and takes us to a high table with barstools. Over popcorn chicken and rice, we hear about her morning. At the end of lunch, she arranges…
-
Love Overflowing
The house is quiet and I’m at the kitchen table folding clothes. It’s been a long time since I’ve folded my son’s garments. Lay out, fold and roll, the way his dad showed me. It’s mundane, but in the stillness, it feels sacred. Something I’m grateful to do. I feel teary writing about it and grateful God gave me the presence to notice it. Memories collide in my head. I’m in Oklahoma, where I raised my children. We lived here in their early years. I’ve had moments like this the entire week. Snuggling Georgia — just 12 days from heaven — her eyes focused on my face for a few…
-
How the Light Gets In
I draw a turtle on a whiteboard and tell the story of Twyla Turtle. “What should Twyla do today?” I ask my 2 ½-year-old granddaughter during our FaceTime call. She has been home for a week after nearly 2 months of sheltering in place with her parents, baby brother, my husband, and me. Now my house is clean and calm. And empty without two little people that round out the ones I love most. “Twyla wants to go to the zoo,” she says. I glance at her face up close in my phone and feel a surge of love. Then at her request, I draw a zookeeper, her baby brother,…
-
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…
-
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. …