Letters to my father : : The in-between {part three}

I've been wanting to write another post for this series.  The problem is that I have all of these little memories and ideas scattered throughout my brain, that i was having trouble making them into a cohesive piece.  Then, the light bulb came on and i realized i could merge them together into something that felt right.  So for this installment, I'll be a bit random.  Details that are good and sad and joyful.  Bits of my youth when life began and ended in my bed on Jerusalem Road.

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Your balance was steady and laughter; contagious, as you'd spin me around the living room.  It was the summer in between home schooling and ninth grade.  I was taking a swing dance class down at Holly Hall and loved it.  At night, I'd show off the new steps or dance i learned and beg my brothers and dad to dance with me.  Jason (brother) would spin me around so fast and forcefully that i couldn't showing him the moves.   Adam would begin adding in other moves or just tickle me to death during the dance and i would get mad that he wasn't sticking to my dance steps.  Then dad would come home from work and happily, he'd begin swinging me around.

Soon after, we'd gather on the back deck for cold pasta salad dinner as the warm sun began to settle into the western sky.  I loved that summer, because for some reason, both of my brothers were home, at least for a little while.

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I believe the day was a typical school day.  I can't remember any specific details that made the day more than ordinary (however, i will always love the ordinary).  But that evening, over dinner, mom and dad said that there may be a chance to see the northern lights tonight, well past my bedtime.  The season was autumn turning into winter and the air was crisp, cool and clear.  The days were beginning to shorten as the smell of decaying leaves filled the air.

After bedtime rituals and homework were done, we gathered blankets and pillows and hot cocoa.  Mom made up a big ol' pile of warmth on the back deck as we snuggled together.  My memory remembers Adam being there, but Jason opting out.  Either way, i remember getting cozy in my sleeping bag and laying on the deck with my parents and brother.  I remember mom and dad pointing out the constellations we could see and telling me to not take my eyes off the sky, in case i see a shooting star.

The funny part of this memory is that i don't actually remember if we saw the Northern Lights.  But i remember feeling so excited to be up way past my bedtime and on an exciting adventure to our porch.  I remember feeling happy to be there, with my parents and brothers.  I remember waking up in my bed, not knowing how i arrived there.

Certainly, i suppose i fell asleep amidst the thousands of stars and the mountain air.  How could one not?

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Hiking.  Oh, how i despised a whole day hiking.  My parents were taking away a whole day of doll and imaginary play to hike a huge mountain.  Why?  I would typically groan and whine for a majority of the family hike.  Our black lab, Cody, and my brothers would basically skip up the mountain side while my mom dragged me and dad bribed me.  One foot in front of the other!, they'd say.  Or, An ice cream cone waits at the bottom!  One hike, i lost a shoe in a mountain of a mud hole.  On another i was so pissy that i decided to walk barefoot the whole way down the mountain to show them how tough i was.  Another hike i peed my pants.  And another one i cried about half of it.

I would always wonder why they insisted on dragging me along when i hated it so much.  They both had so much enthusiasm in the woods and it drove me nuts.  I'd think in my head, i don't care about another wildflower or misty waterfall.  Just get me home, where i can play.

Yep, i was a real peach on those hikes.  But thankfully, they pushed me.  They knew it was good and beneficial for me.  With a little bit of exposure and not over-doing it, hopefully i would find peace and joy when in the woods.

And i did.
I found more.  Comfort, gratitude, wonder, happiness and yes, peace and joy.  So much joy.

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My parents taught me that children view even the smallest experiences as the best adventures.  The three experiences above encompass joy and happiness and frustration.  But all three have really defined a piece of me.  In the midst of a busy life, I hope Jason and I can push the stop button some days pull Liam out of school to take a spontaneous day trip, just because the weather is perfect.  To spend many hours in the woods with him, because that is where Jason and i feel most grounded.  To let him explore and experience all of the gifts of the seasons.

By taking little slices out of the ordinary and celebrating change or a moonlit snowshoe or sleeping in a tent in the backyard or having ice cream for dinner, we show our children that our responsibility to the ordinary is there, but adventure is always available.

This is one lesson from my childhood that i will never take for granted and promise to give Liam the gift of an adventurous life.

One Year

At an hour old, i was so tired and exhausted but awake on amazement and love.

At a day old i worked with you to breastfeed while staring in your eyes for hours.

At a week old we were beyond exhausted but somehow functioning on bliss as the autumn leaves swayed down breaking through the crisp air.

At a month old, we finally got the breastfeeding down (sort of) and would pace the house for hours every night, as you'd cry.

At two months old you smiled at us, we melted.  And cried some more.  You'd take 10pm truck drives around the state with daddy.

At three months old, you became alive.  You moved and took interest in your surroundings.

At four months old, you started settling into a good sleeping rhythm, nursing only once or twice during the night.  You tasted maple syrup as daddy would boil the night away.

At five months old you found your voice and began to babble.

At six months old, you were so.much.fun, and yet sick the whole month.  You refused to nurse at night, and so our breastfeeding days were over.

At seven months you were still sick, but still the happiest guy.  You began to explore the world outside as the ground began to thaw and lush grass padded your fall.

At eight months you began to eat everything easily, exploring new foods and textures.

At nine months old, as the days were humid and hot, you escaped out the front door every chance you got.  Your hands began to move forward as your hips rocked back and forth.  Your knees moved and you flew.

At ten months old you tested your boundaries and began making truck noises.  Finally slept in your crib again, with morning snuggles in bed with us as the weather shifted once again to welcome cooler mornings.

At Eleven months old you mimic everything we do.  You began to wave, shake your head and leap up the stairs.  

At a year old, I'm not sure what i ever did before you were here.  My heart has never been more full, my mind more clear and my voice more strong.  A year, a full cycle of being a mother.

I'll give you the world and help you explore, my sweet one.

Happy First Birthday.