Adventure Mom

This is NOT a Christmas Letter                                       It’s not a ‘see what I’ve/my children/my partner have accomplished. It’s not about where we’ve traveled or what we’ve acquired so much as about how we continue growing into our funny/flawed/fearsome and fearless forms. As I sit at Pete’s sister’s kitchen table with its red vinyl cover, staring at fluted glass pedestal plates of oranges and bananas and procrastinate, er, write, I imagine what I might tell you about the Year in Review. Here’s what didn’t happen: ·          No one won Lotto or a major award. ·          No one landed a new (full-time) job. ·          No one bought or sold a house or new car. ·          No one gained acceptance into a major (...

Remember December It’s nine o’clock in the evening. I’m standing where water meets sand – the ocean’s tide line. I’ve come to listen to waves, to watch lines of water advance and retreat. The day has been extraordinarily ordinary: a Santa parade, chat with new friends, a new (used) bike for Fiona, a run on the ocean road with Finley alongside on his bike; erection of a Christmas tree; a late dinner of shrimp on the Barbie with loads of garlic. It was sunny and beautiful and gorgeously easy. No one got hurt or sick. No one died or even threw a major tantrum. I've come to the ocean to give thanks, just as in the past, I've come to offer tears. Three years ago, the kids and I were caught in a tangle of sickness.  I shuttled between home, hospital and work while Sean was critically ill. Enmeshed in the web, you can’t see beyond the filaments that cloud your vision. You can’t imagine the snarl will unravel, releasing you to new life. December third would’ve been my thi...