Morning gratitude

This sprawling city has many ugly parts, but so many beautiful parts too. Like all of us.

Beach love

Today was much better than yesterday. No tempers flared. The sun and sand soothed us all.

Thankful

We are just back from Thanksgiving with Josh's sister Mookie and family in San Francisco. I am thankful for so much, but high on the list is to be back in the circle of Mookie's arms and love. Not that we didn't keep in touch through the separation; we did. But being there with all the family ... being part of the family ... it was priceless.

She is a poet. She gave me this poem.

The Measure of Love

do we love equally
you and I
as time and tide
passes between us
have we achieved parity

and how do we quantify
this symmetry
what yardstick
what scale
will measure

like children
shall we place
glasses on the counter
both watchful
as life pours in
both judging
who gets more
or less

or should we
savor our cups
drink fully
knowing half full
is the greatest amount.

-- Martha Meltzer

The storm erupted.

I sat in the back yard and thought about nothing until the yelling stopped, then stayed for ten minutes more.

Lauren came looking for me. "It's OK now," she said. "We sorted it out."

I hugged her tight. "It's hard being a teen," I whispered in her ear.
"And it's hard being the dad of a teen.
Be kind to each other."

It's so interesting, and delicate, to come back as an observer of a tenuous parent-teen relationship, in which I used to play a key part. Every time they butt heads, I wonder if my presence has affected things. Lauren says no. Josh says he doesn't know. Lauren says it's always been like this. Josh says that they haven't argued this way for a long time.

My urge is to hug them both, individually and together. To breathe with them, to encircle them with my love. To say let's calm. the. fuck. down.

Sure, she bugs me when she interrupts constantly, but not enough to throw me way off kilter. I probably interrupt more than I notice, too.

None of us are perfect. We are all human. So let's just lighten up, right? Have some fun, laugh, fart, and not take it all so seriously.

I would like that.

Indiana

Little babies touch a particular place in my heart that nothing and no-one else comes near. I guess that's why our species hasn't died out yet. They're just so adorable and perfect ... when they're asleep.

I'm actually enjoying leaving for work two hours earlier than before. The drive through the foggy canyon was so pretty this morning.

Home again

What a crazy, yet oh-so-right, couple of weeks. It started with an out-of-the-blue text from Josh asking my permission to put our divorce on hold until we talked some things through. He invited me to brunch that weekend, and I went with some trepidation but an open heart. We talked, and walked, for hours.

The upshot is that our little family is together once more.

I have learned a lot through this time; about myself, about Josh, about letting go, about acceptance, and about meeting joy where I find it.

We both have new eyes, new appreciation, and deeper commitment. It's good. Very good. We are happy.

If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was.