Dear Dad,
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. The kids are getting big –well, at least big to us! S is 6 1/2 now, going into first grade, and A and B are 2. They have such great senses of humor and love to laugh! I often think about what it would be like if they could know you and spend time with you –you’d get such a kick out of them, and they would love your calm but enthusiastic, attentive presence!
The other day, I was driving S to summer day camp, and crested the hill going towards Sunset Boulevard and suddenly saw the whole ocean laid out there: blue, powerful, tiny white lines of waves, stretching out to the horizon. I wondered how long it would take to get to just that point where the ocean, seen from here, disappears from view. I pictured getting on a boat, sailing off: you’d think at first only about the first part of the journey, towards the end of what you could see, but then you’d also be thinking about your destination… where would it be? Japan? Hawaii? China? Fiji?
Looking at the ocean from up here in the avenues –it’s so vast, so immense, that you can’t help but follow the sweep of the water out from the beach to the horizon as if you yourself are on the beginning of some journey, starting out with anticipation, as if I’m already in the airport, past the security checks, backpack on headed for someplace new. But here I am: the most grounded that I’ve been in my life, 3 young kids, not much money, no remote possibility of getting on a plane alone going to some exotic destination.
But life is good: the kids are healthy and happy, we have fun together and –though the amount of marathon work is sometimes overwhelming –I’m really enjoying being a mom and I also know that this time getting to be with the three of them while they’re young is precious.
Part of me calculates the time until the little ones are old enough to be more independent and let us, I don’t know, sleep in a bit, eat a leisurely dinner, go out together to various places, catch up on housework, go to a movie together etc. But I also know that when they are older, I’ll miss how they are now that they’re little. They are extremely sweet, mischievous, and adorable. And everything is so intense –all of the feelings, the good and bad, the highs and lows.
And the bond that I have right now with S is quite special. He’s getting to be such a big boy: reading like lightening, wanting to be presented with and solve all sorts of puzzles, but he still loves to pretend and play and is still just little enough that he wants to cuddle with me and be close. There was a time earlier this year when, whenever we were alone in the car, he wanted to hear stories about my life, and when I was a kid. “Tell me a story about you, mama!” during car rides, walks, bedtime. I would tell him little stories about things that had happened that related to the kinds of things he was doing or was interested in, and then –when those ran out– just any random memory that came up when he asked. I remembered all sorts of things that I hadn’t thought about in years. And I got to tell him some stories about you, and about things we did together. Oh, and he is starting to love jokes, so I’ve started telling him some of yours –he loves the one where you ask someone to spell things that rhyme with “toast” and then ask “what do you put in the toaster?” and everyone says “toast” but the answer is really, “bread”.
Work is going well, and I enjoy it when I’m there, but it’s not what occupies my mind when I’m not. I do have a few projects I’d like to do and am kind of itching to get to, but I also know that I want to pace myself so that I have more time with the kids now and I know I’ll have time to do those things later.
We don’t get a chance to visit you at the cemetery as often as I’d like, but I think of you a lot. I’ll write again soon!
all my love,
A
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