our neighborhood is making a strong case


in the debate over seasons, i have always been the biggest advocate for fall. for as long as we've lived here, andy has been trying to push spring on me, but i stubbornly hung on to my conviction and ignored him. i think i must have closed my eyes too because this morning august and i took a walk to the park and we stopped more than a couple of times with our eyes squinted upward and our mouths gaped open to look up at all the blossoms. i'm not saying that i'm switching allegiances or anything, but from where i stand, spring is looking real good.  

to the disenchanted


Edited with #Afterlight
oh, spring. so full of life and so tender, at the same time. it's always been a season of challenges, decisions, and acceptance for me. very hit-or-miss. it's just so temperamental (if not needy), which is a bit too much for someone who considers themselves low maintenance.

i have been feeling tired and unmotivated lately. nearly everyday is a battle to fight off the malaise, leaving me disappointed and sheepish in in the struggle. sleep has been spotty and when it does come, the accompanying dreams are troubling. work and school have kept andy away from home a lot. and august's vocabulary has regressed, consisting of one word: NO. i don't mean to be such a downer because i realize these are just fleeting moments. ephemeral stages in the grand scheme of things, but sometimes you need to acknowledge the dark - embrace it even - to fully appreciate the light.

last friday my very pregnant twin sister came into town with her burgeoning belly, a harbinger of the season and a reminder of all its promise. we spent the day out numbered, chasing four little ones around and laughing at the madness of it. at night, we stayed up late eating ice cream in the kitchen and talking to our mother about family; its challenges and its joys.

on saturday we visited my older brother who is recovering from an organ transplant - the second time in his life he's donated to someone in need - and i looked at him, marveling how his role has morphed throughout my life from guardian, to friend, to colleague, and now, hero.

sunday morning, i watched august discover eggs hidden in the same lawn i foraged as a child and in the afternoon, we gathered with friends over a feast that left us as full and content as their company. at night, i slept with the same restlessness that has recently plagued me, but as my thoughts jumped from each of the weekend's events, i was reminded that life has its counterparts: absurdity and humor, messiness and grace, sacrifice and humility, dissonance and community.

and so it is on this rainy april day that i see pink blossoms against the grey sky and notice that maybe they are just a little more vibrant because of the bleary light. and somehow, in all this rambling, my energies are the slightest bit restored and i feel silly because it all will pass, just as seasons do. and it will return too, as temperamental as seasons are, but that's what makes each one so beautiful.

so, this is for me as much is it for you: live in it. see it. breath it. feel it all.

a half-birthday


today is my half-birthday and in six short months i'll be sharing my actual birth date with another. another! even though it's been over 13 weeks, it hardly seemed real until we saw that sharp white profile cut against the black screen last friday. you would think that with this being my second time, it would all be more familiar, but with a toddler running around i find myself more aware of his developments than i am of the little life growing inside me. life has it's miracles though - seen and unseen - and i am just so excited to be able to experience them over and again. so there i was, lying on a paper-covered table, with andy in a chair next to me, and august on his lap when we saw that monochrome image and a flash of recognition across august's face. the wand was still on my belly and the baby rolled around on the screen, while a strong heartbeat thrummed through the room when i turned to a wide-eyed august and whispered, it sounds like a choo-choo! "baby choo-choo!", he echoed in a far-off voice. then, andy and i looked at each other and it was in that moment that we finally recognized it. we were all there together, all four of us.


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