Fast Forward

Gone are the long afternoons spent floating on my back in my parent's pool.  I would gaze up at the blue sky til it turned silver.  This summer has yet to slow down.  While my boys are enjoying it all I can't seem to refill their water bottles fast enough.  I am breathing, barely.

The issue is that this summer is all about next summer.  My oldest son is ready for a change.  I investigate sleep-away camps in an effort to find the right place for him.  I make phone calls, my stomach turns, I hold back tears.

I have seen my son leap into newness without worry.  Sometimes his confidence level exceeds his abilities.  But no matter, I admire his moxie.  Anxiety is my business.  In a dream I am fearless, flying alongside him.

Red Hot

I am hot or cold, moving between passion and disinterest. Creative highs are my fireworks. In off moments I recharge through the tedium. When I stumble upon an image, I spark and everything makes sense. I am these imperfect opposites - - a flash of light, then dark.

My Men

Calendar holidays.  I search the card store to find my feelings expressed in someone else's words.  I prefer that we honor one another on more than one prescribed day.  But in the spirit of Father's Day I am taking notice of the outstanding men that uplift and challenge me.  I am surrounded.

Some wish to outgrow car seats.  Others are concerned about retirement savings.  Many are navigating in between.  The right words come easily to them.  They are present.  One still calls me "mama."  They are artists - energetic and generous.  I am in awe of them.  My men look me in the eye.

I am everything with them.

Tree Porn

I casually asked my gardener to get rid of a dogwood tree in our yard. Now I can't stop thinking about it.

I thought there would be more time to say goodbye but in the two hours that it took for a child's baseball game the tree was obliterated. Not even a branch remained on our curb. What a surprise when we arrived home. My son had tears in his eyes.

The dogwood had been in decline for nearly eight years, since we bought our house. With my boys needing more space it seemed like a good idea to have it uprooted. I have been visiting what remains all week, trying to make something that feels right photographically to honor a tree that gave us more shade than I knew.

Soon topsoil will be laid and seed scattered to grow grass. It will be beneath us, buried. We will kick balls and lose them in our neighbor's yard, forever. I'd like to remember the dogwood.

Cherry Bomb

Don't panic. It's only the remains of an Italian Ice. No lips stitched or bones bandaged. Time for messy hands and more laundry. Warm weather is here.

Exhale. Inhale. Devour the stickiness.