Daddy

That's my dad holding the piece of hardware that made him a Sir. He's been so much on my heart this week. Some years, the anniversary of his death hits me harder than others. He was a brilliant man, a gifted jurist with a powerful work ethic, which was matched only by his devotion to family. His decisions made the most compelling reading. He felt that any non-legal person should be able to read his explanation of the law governing a decision, and grasp its full meaning. And his summaries of the facts of a case read like a story, something about the way he chose and deployed words. He was knighted in 1987 by the Queen of England for his work as Chief Justice of the Eastern Caribbean. He had joined their judiciary in 1979, after his retirement in Jamaica. Because he and my mom moved there, I met my husband in 1983. Daddy was also made a bencher at his old law school, Lincoln's Inn in London, which as I understand it, is akin to being admitted to their hall of fame. I was just looking up Lincoln's Inn so I could tell you its location, and discovered there's a wiki page for my dad, who knew? I've been whispering to him this morning, and also to my mom, these two people with as much life courage, kindness, and integrity as anyone I ever met. I've been asking them to help me finish this book well. I have fifty-five thousand words down; thirty thousand more to go. How blessed I've been in this life. When I really stop to take in how fortunate I am, how lucky I've been, it makes me cry. I've been crying a lot this week. So many feelings flooding through.

Questions

Why do some of us cry only when no one can see us? Do we think we won't be comforted? Are we trying to spare others the discomfort of our tears? What is it? I'm not sad today, even though it is the twenty-fourth anniversary of my dad's death. I miss him always, and I did tear up on waking, but I don't feel broken, I'm mostly just grateful that he was mine. I was just wondering about the crying in secret, is all, and what it says about us humans.

Seen in Freeman's Alley

Love day

I'm off to my spot by the big window in a bookstore cafe, where I will continue pushing hard to meet word count on my current project. It's definitely going better than before, with a couple of the book's most pivotal chapters already in the can.

In the mail last night, I received a box of hard copies of the last book I wrote, which will be published on March 3. It's always more real when you hold that first beautifully bound copy in your hands! And the book's editor at Simon & Schuster put up a lovely post on social media, in which she gave me public credit, even though I was a true ghost on this work, and my name isn't on the cover. I so appreciate her doing this. We pour our whole selves into the writing, we make a faithful work of trying to channel another person's story in a way that will feel true and right to them. So, not gonna lie, it feels good to be acknowledged for that effort. I don't think it's ego, exactly. It's more like desiring a public declaration of a thing you helped make with love.

It's Valentines Day, and my niece who lives with us has gone away with friends for the long weekend, which means it will be just the man and me over dinner and wine tonight, gazing into each other's eyes.  I wish everyone here a pair of eyes to gaze into, eyes that you dearly love—a lover, a child, a parent figure, a sibling, a cousin, a cohort, a guide. The photo was taken by my friend Susan and she gave me permission to post it. I saved it especially for today.

Why shouldn't it be easy?

The writing is finally flowing a bit more easily. I have also started to dream about this book, which I think means the channel for this work to come through is finally open. I awaken at morning and feel a stir of excitement to get back to the story, to make up for all the months I have lost to wringing my hands and thinking this process has to be hard. It was hard. Truly, the only thing that's changed, other than the fact that I am further along in the narrative, is my conscious decision that this could be easy. I actually sat on my bed one morning and said: Please let this be easy. I can't say it has become easy, exactly, but I have begun to enjoy the engagement so much more, to remember that I actually love and learn so much from doing this work. And right now, I feel a desire to thank all of you who read here, because the practice of writing this blog, of speaking to you regularly in this space, helps me. It keeps me in the habit of finding the next word, of making it play. You have no idea how much you are a part of my process.

Thank you.
Thank you.
So much love.

We watched the Superbowl and were serenaded, too

Our kids and their loves came over, and three other friends of ours, and there was a table full of noshes that people brought, plus three kinds of wings my man had made. We rooted for the Kansas City Chiefs, since the San Francisco 49ers didn't have the courage to protect Colin Kaepernick in his respectful protest against the snuffing out of black lives. It made the choice to root for the underdogs easy, and the underdogs won. Our kids came early, which meant a full afternoon of hanging out and chatting and laughing, the way we do. My niece played her cello for us, the Game of Thrones theme music, Broadway show tunes, Hozier's "Take Me to Church," and some classical pieces. An impromptu concert. We loved it. My daughter teased, "I keep forgetting that my little cousin is seriously talented."

I'm pressing forward in my book and don't feel as if I have much time to write and comment here, though I'm still reading, usually on my phone when I fall into bed at night. Today is the Iowa Caucus, and I'm pretty underwhelmed about the whole thing. Elizabeth Warren is my candidate, but I will vote for any warm body who secures the nomination against Trump. The State of the Union address by the impeached president is tomorrow night, and I won't be watching. Then, on Wednesday, the Senate will bring to a close it's sham impeachment trial, no doubt by acquitting the corrupt president. I'd like to note that Congressman Adam Schiff has been outstanding as a House Manager. I feel his passion as he argues to save the republic. Meanwhile when Trump's lawyers speak, you can hear them lying. The whole thing is a travesty. Democracy and the rule of law have been completely shat on. Let's hope we aren't broken beyond repair. On a brighter note, some pictures from last night.