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Browsing Tag: slowing down

I’ll Go First

A former student of mine died a couple of weeks ago. He was 27, and the news was sudden and absolutely staggering. His loss is one that’s going to reverberate through the community for a very long time: a big light went out when this young man left the Earth. There’s no ignoring a darkness like that. As always in times like this, the tributes began to pour onto his social media pages. I can’t tell you how many of the messages started with “I know it’s been a while since we talked” and ended with some form of “I wish I could just laugh with you one more time.” Reaching out. It’s something that so many of us have good intentions of doing, honest, if it weren’t for just being so busy. I remember, about a year ago, thinking that I hadn’t heard from this old student as often as I used to, but I never got in touch with him to say hi. There’s another former student, one who moved back to my area and asked me to…

Because the Mountain Will Always be There

Saoirse was home sick from school today, which meant no basketball practice for her tonight. David was off to Connecticut for work for a couple of days, so I held court at home, getting water and making eggs-in-a-nest and kissing warm foreheads. I snuck in some writing, but today, I did a lot of…sitting. And it was okay.We picked up Quinlan from school later this afternoon, and the ride home along the cold, wet streets was calm. Even Cian was quiet, for the most part, and Quinlan and Saoirse were tucked into the books they keep in the car. Back home, the simplicity continued: homework was out of the way early and kid pajamas were on by four. By 4:30 I’d abandoned plans to cook a chicken soup and placed an order for Panera delivery (one upside to living within walking distance to allllll of the chains). By 5:30, the kids had eaten, dinner had been cleaned up, and we were all under blankets in the living room, with a fire roaring and a candle lit and Ella Enchanted playing on the TV. Like Quinlan said, it was easy to…

You Know the Cliche

Cian noticed the tulips in their vase on the kitchen island and stopped his play. “When are dey gonna open?” he asked me. I looked at them, perfectly shaped, as they must have been all week. I couldn’t say for sure: I’d picked them up for six bucks at the grocery store on Saturday and really hadn’t noticed them since. “Maybe tomorrow, buddy,” I said. “It happens slowly.” “Can I see dem?” “Sure,” I replied, and picked him up to set him on the counter beside the flowers. Nervously, I circled, staying close, because even though I had a bunch of things to do and the chances of him falling off and cracking his head open were slim, you know. I’m not one to assume. But he sat there for the longest time–come on buddy, I have STUFF to DOOOOO–and other than when he kept calling out, “Don’t take a pictchah of me! Stop LOOKING AT ME!” he was really happy to just…watch the tulips. “When are dey gonna open?&#8221…