zoola tana

A quick road trip by Chase and I. A transfer to a new university, a fresh adventure for my young adult son. I pointed out each and every landmark along the way... look down this canyon around this corner for a glimpse at an awesome trestle bridge... when you were two you said this at this very spot... story after memory after story... I had to keep reminding myself that this is his experience not mine this time around, but Missoula is imprinted in my psyche, my own personal road map. I raised those boys as toddlers here. I was a professional at a young age. Touring campus with my former boss I witness all the new buildings -- beautiful -- but also opened a few doors and saw my mark lingering after 17 years. "You see this colorful painted bathroom Chase" I did that. This language lab, the signs, the copy center. Yep, me. Recognizing a former self. I spent time with great friends... Kelle and I climbed the "M" and the "L" and talked forever. I don't know how to explain some friendships. They are just "rooted" and strong and safe and comfortable. And so I tried to keep this all from overwhelming Chase and let him discover it on his own. We drove home mostly silent through dirt dusted rain, spring bug hatches and herds of tumbleweeds crossing the highway. What place is road map imprinted in your memory?

child of mine

at the skatepark in Avalon; photo by Billy Rielly

Empty hotel nesters is the label we give ourselves. Easter arrived dusted with sugary snowflakes. A patchwork quilt of a meal was weaved together with Dad, Darren, and Chase. A boisterous visit with Grandpa and Aunts and Uncles resulted in ribbons of bright laughter. Fullness of family and friendship lulled me to slumber in peace. A note to Land Down Under wriggled through cyberspace, "remember that Khloee and the Easter Bunny love you." A reference to his four-year old self listing the most dedicated loves of his life. He is on high adventure at the moment. A three-week safari through Australia... the Murray River, Ayers Rock, Alice Springs, the Daintree, Melbourne, the Great Barrier Reef, the Gold Coast, and many more. We receive notes about our land. "A lovely boy" - "What a thoughtful young man" - "A great conversationalist" - "a super addition to our team." And I see him through new eyes. A good heart... independent... driven... I miss his face. Why do you learn so much about someone when separate?

This song sung at Chase's fifth grade celebration, expresses everything: (oh, and I feel this way about both my children)

Child of mine, you are the wildest wind and the dearest dream
I will ever know.
Love's lasting light shines out from deep within this father's heart
As I watch you grow.

Child of mine, you are the break of dawn and the brightest star
I will ever know
Love's lasting light comes shining on and on from this mother's heart
As I watch you grow

There is a road, and that road is all your own
But we are here, you need not walk alone.
To face, not fear each coming new unknown
Is the way to lift your wings

Child of mine, you are the sweetest song and the greatest gift
I will ever know.
Child of mine, where spirits fly above there is but one
that belongs to you.

So let it grow and it will thrive on love
For it is love that sees us through

You have the hands that will open up the doors
You have the hopes this world is waiting for
You are my own, but you are so much more
You are tomorrow on the wing,

Child of mine.

- Bill Staines

march madness

The flooded house caused more damage than at first thought... and being an older home other problems were uncovered as we peeled away the layers of wet soggy home. We have been living in a hotel for a month now. The excitement is wearing off. Darren said to think of it as Eloise at the Plaza. I thought of Coach Majerus speaking about the best thing about living in a hotel: "There's clean towels, my bed's turned down every night and there's a mint on my pillow, no matter what psychological or emotional crisis the maid's going through." It's not too bad. It is just exhausting. An onslaught of decisions to make each day. It is weird to be without "home." It feels lonely... no visitors, no family around.

I list the positives:
We are all safe and healthy.
We don't have to sleep in the dust and chaos.
The insurance pays for the accommodations.
I pretend I am living in a high rise in a big city, the desk manager my doorman.
I have breakfast everyday.
I can sit in the hot tub every night.
Room service is cool.

What I am really missing is a home-cooked meal. I can't wait for my new range with a 24" griddle. My mouth is watering waiting in anticipation.

What makes me happiest is talking to my two year old nephew 2-3 times a week. This makes no sense but the conversation goes like this.

me: hi mango (he loves this nick-name, go figure)
him: no, you are mango.
me: no, you are mango.
him: no, you are mango.
me: no, you are mango.
him: no, you are mango.
...continue for five or more minutes...
me: I am going to eat you up mango.
him: no, I am going to eat mango.
...continue...
me: I love you mango.
him: I love you mango. Where is you?
me: I am in Utah at my house/hotel.
him: can I go there?
me: anytime mango.
him: I miss you mango.
me: I miss you too mango.
him: no, you are mango.
...and so it goes...

...and I love it...

this song suits the conversation...



happy spring... pics from st. john coming soon.

what goes around comes around

We have been in St. John, "where every day is different and every day is perfect." I came up with that motto all by myself. We went on another beach vacation with our friends the Anderson's. I'll post more about it later. I love the water and the moist air. We got home at 1:00am last night. A pipe had broke in our upstairs bathroom and ran for two days. A waterfall into the kitchen, and dining room, and sitting room. Arrrrghhh! As a pirate would say. Chase took care of moving the furniture and getting someone in to tear out the sheetrock and carpets. I'm left with the moist air and water. Isn't that what I wanted?

time since...21 months

Darren's Hobble Creek Restoration: new life

I measure time by the day it happened. I say to myself, she has three months left. Did I smile with her that time? Did she run her fingers through my hair? Did she look at my children with that awe that was hers alone? Was I angry that day? I get stuck. I wrap my heart gently in brightly colored cloth. Protection. A happy outside image. Some days I let the rawness peak out from that gentle cover. Emotion. I feel you. It is tender. I ponder what the dialogue is for dad. Wrap it up tight. How could it possibly happen? Accident. It is a slicing word. Go back. How are you physically present one moment and then gone? Where did you go? I still hear your voice. You are so close. Stay. While I figure it out one more time, and then another, and yet another.