End of Winter

The sun is a benison to weary nerves. It is good to stand outside as the day ages, and to blink into the westering light. Soon the city and surrounding countryside will swell full with warmth and greenery. Max and Will will stretch and crow, and produce Vitamin D at an alarming rate. We will sleep out of doors, and swim in the river, and eat food we've grown and fish we've spent hours catching, and I will revel in the life and growth of my sons.

much peace

Goodbye Mom

Mom went about as easy as a body can go, I guess, and was conscious and lucid for all but the very last. She asked to see my boys, and got to talk and listen to them for a little while before she began the last mile.

She was relatively pain free, and tired of the oxygen mask. She couldn't breathe so well without it, but a little bit of morphine here and there alleviated that discomfort. Her tiny little body, which had given life and comfort to so many for so long, was just done. She slipped pretty gently out of consciousness, and all the brothers and sisters sang and talked and prayed her to sleep. We got quiet at the end, and kept vigil while her breathing slowed, and while the pulse at her neck weakened and finally stopped. Everybody cried some, and I was a big bawl-baby myself, but I'm fiercely glad that my mom kept her sovereignty to the end, and drew her lines where she did. I'm also glad that my kids' first experience with death was with a woman as brave and as dignified as my mom, and with a family as large, loving and unabashedly emotional as mine. Her whole life, my Mom gave, and gave, and gave. Even in dying she had gifts and lessons to give. I'm richer for it. So thanks, and goodbye, mom. I hate that you had to go, but I'm glad you're free.

much peace,

Bike Commuting

There were geese in the creek today, and a mallard couple, and a small mammal of some sort disturbed the surface as it swam. There was also some resilient ice in one of the drainage pipes, and the water was chilly blue-green.

much peace,