We were together.

I honestly don’t remember a day when I wasn’t in love with you, David Paul.  Some days I wake up and think

Oh my God, he is still here 

because I can’t even imagine why you would stick around with me…and yet there you are.

And for twenty years, you have come back home to me every night. I can believe there were times that it didn’t seem like an entirely desirable option. But you came home anyway, poured yourself a bourbon and walked straight into the fire. Sometimes I think I may have even heard you whistling…

I guess this means we’re really stuck with each other. We’re actually going to make it.

I guess I always knew we would.

Happiest anniversary David.  I would marry you all over again.  Every time, without fail, I would choose you.



We were together.

I forget the rest.

–Walt Whitman

We were together.

Silence Like a Boom

Kate Summer 2016 kjk

It rained last night. The trees bear that in their color…the trees, the grasses and the fields full of blue Chicory flowers and Queen Anne’s Lace.

I turned off, onto the old winding road and drove slowly, trying to avoid holes and making my best attempt to find the smooth patches of dirt among the rippled gravel. She was beside me, but quiet.  The early morning sun flickered through the canopy of trees, and I could feel emotions swell within me.

We aren’t the way we used to be.

We aren’t the same.

When we got to the barn, she began to put her boots on.  I touched her hair, swept it behind her ear and said

“I miss how we used to be.”

And she said nothing.

There was silence that felt like a boom.

I remember once saying that she would outgrow me, but I would never outgrow her.

I think it is happening.

She is outgrowing me.

I didn’t know it would feel like this.

Silence Like a Boom


Kate 15 kjk

I remember those days, those halcyon days, wrapped warmly with you and that big, gentle dog…sitting by the fire…dreaming as you slept.

I remember them like they were yesterday…the sound of the fire…the smell of your downy hair…the way your fingers unfurled when I touched your cheek. The way my heart felt…as though cannons were fired from within.

You are almost grown now…it was not yesterday.

Today you are fifteen years old. You’re better than those dreams I dreamed, you know.

And the cannons…the cannons are still firing, Kate.

Happy fifteenth birthday baby girl…


The Lower Ring

“It will probably be the last lesson in the upper ring.  It’s getting too dark.”

“Oh” I said, a little inquisitively. “I’ve never been to the lower ring.”

“Me neither. It has lights.”

I hadn’t expected the contemplation in her voice. I had expected her to tell me what the lower ring was like, or where it was, or to say that she had been down there once or twice.  I had expected her to be happy about this new experience, however small the change might be. But always, with her, there is a hesitancy…a tentative posture, almost as though she is waiting for me to react before she does.

She left to tack up her horse.

I sat in the quiet, watching the wind ruffle itself through the trees.  Watching the leaves spin to the ground, catching flickers of the early evening sunlight. Watching her graceful figure walk to the upper ring for the last time, until the light shines in our favor again.

The Lower Ring

God Gave Me Today

I drove Kate to school today.  It was in the forties this morning but today it was sunny, so I opened the sun roof and let the sun warm my face as I drove home. Most Mondays I am full of a kind of joy that is hard to express in words…everything is beautiful — the rain, the sun, dead leaves swirling in the wind, the sound of the dryer, the finger prints on the windows…  

This morning didn’t feel like that, though.

I was a big fat meanie last night. It doesn’t really matter why. I was mean. I left. I drove around the neighborhood, up and down the streets, past warmly-lit houses. I drove to the plaza and sat in the parking lot at 8:30 watching people go in and out of the store. Watching their puffs of breath in the chilly air. Wondering what they were doing there…what they were buying…where they lived…what their life was like.  Watching a stray leaf fall here and there, making its slow spiral to the ground in the lamplight.  Wondering what just happened to me. Wondering what my family was doing. Wondering if my kids were worried about where I was. Remembering things that were said to me, and things that I said. 

I went home and Ella was already asleep. Her hair was still wet from the shower. She fell asleep with a pillow over her head because Kate was vacuuming at bedtime and it was too loud. I took the pillow off, and straightened her hair out with my fingers. She always looks so little when she sleeps…she and jellycat in a tangled knot of crimson tresses and nubby fur, fleece polka dots and freckles and loved-off whiskers. She brings me to my knees, the way her face is softly illuminated by the light of the stairway every night. I sat by her for a minute, just breathing.

I am lucky. 

God gave me another day. 

God gave me today.

God Gave Me Today

The Last, Loveliest Smile

Mums NST

It looks like rain outside, but there is no rain in the forecast. I could really use a beautifully rainy day today.  It is going to rain on Sunday…it will be cool and rainy and I think the perfect day to let a pot of chili simmer on the stove and watch football together.

I have a couple of errands to run today, and then I think I’ll spend some time in the garden. My poor, poor garden. Yesterday I realized there were about 100 tiny little cherry tomatoes ready to pick that I didn’t even know had grown.  I even picked a few strawberries.  Next year I promise to do better…

On my list today —  Chrysanthemums.  I think it’s time. Kate is going to be happy…she is very happy that autumn has arrived.  I don’t know why.  I asked her.  She doesn’t know why.  I’m glad she’s happy.

Yesterday I was outside for a few hours working in the garden. There was a breeze that blew through the hickory and oak trees in our yard, scattering hundreds of acorns and nuts with each gentle gust. It sounded like hail. Poppy just loved that.  She flew around the yard picking up acorns and hickory nuts and flinging them around, then chasing after them and zipping to the other end of the yard all by herself. She stopped to bark at the deer behind the fence (who were not scared of her), or to watch the geese overhead, flying in their uneven V. Their flight call mingled with the rustling of leaves in the breeze. I stopped to watch them for a moment, before they disappeared behind the trees. The sun was warm on my face.

Acorns NSTOne year David had a brilliant idea to pay the kids to pick up the acorns.  $5 per bucket or something like that.  He was broke after about an hour.  Henry mentioned the bucket idea to me earlier in the week. I told him to go ask his father.

This year it took a long while for me to be ready for autumn.  I don’t know why.  I have always loved the season, I could list a thousand reasons why, but I guess this year my heart clung tightly to summer and it’s late dinners, it’s schedule-less delight, it’s sleepy-headed, lazy mornings. It’s hard to walk away from such a beautiful place as summer, with it’s sunshine and wildflowers and it’s beaches, seashells, ice cream and bare feet.

But as the days have cooled, the pumpkins and chrysanthemums have begun popping up on doorsteps around town…acorns are falling and leaves will be changing colors soon. Boots and sweaters and wool blankets have been pulled out, and I’ve even begun dreaming of cocoa and mulled wine by a warm fire in the evenings.

And my sentiment toward leaving summer behind is changing.  Autumn is, afterall, “the year’s last, loveliest smile…”

–John Howard Bryant, “Indian Summer”

Wool Blanket NST

The Last, Loveliest Smile