Wednesday, January 27, 2016
On Monday our girl left to return to school for her last semester of college. I keep writing those words as if that will help me grasp them. I still can't wrap my head around the dizzying speed with which her college years have gone.
Meanwhile yesterday my son tried sprinting on his rehabilitating knee, but it bit back, not yet, no, no. Nevertheless, he is almost healed. By May he should be fully back to where he was before tearing his ACL while playing soccer—on concrete. He's in a new job at his company, with more responsibility, in fact he's now doing two jobs combined into one. As my dad always used to say, the reward for good work is more work.
I'm immersed in page proofs for Dr. Simmons' book, trying to work as fast as I can to make sure the book will be ready by her 98th birthday at the end of March. Maybe we'll have a big book party.
I'm feeling quiet these days, just doing my work, doing a lot of thinking, trying to be mindful in all my relationships, to treat them with loving care. But I'm still reading you all. I'm still right here.
That's how it looked as I cabbed it to choir rehearsal on Monday night. Two days later, the snow is turning to murky gray lakes on street corners.