Veni, Vidi, Amavi

I'm up early on this Saturday morning. That's a deliberate choice...I set my alarm. I do this because I like Saturdays to last extra long. It's a beautiful sunshiney day, but the yard is covered in frost. We had to turn on the heat last night. I've resorted to wearing my Ugg slippers and we curl up under afghans. Yes, even the furry cats. This is October.

It's funny...I'm in between books right now so I came here to write instead, but I didn't really have anything to say. Just sitting here though I have so many things come to mind that I cannot type fast enough. That's why I write. It's a release. It's therapy.

It's Homecoming week. Both the kids were at the chilly game last night. Lily's excited for the dance tonight. She's going with girlfriends and quite happy about that. Teddy is boycotting. The dance is "boring and the music is bad." These attitudes speak to exactly where they are right now. She's embracing everything and he's got one foot out the door. She's in the season of firsts while he is all about lasts. And all I hear is a dueling chorus of be here now and years are minutes in my head.

He shared his personal statement with me the other day. It was well-written and thoughtful. I've been nagging him about deadlines and responsibilities. He's been bucking back with how he always get things done despite being a procrastinator at heart and how he's almost an adult. I guess it's time to trust that...him. And also myself. That I've raised a fine young man.

I was writing a letter to him yesterday in the journal I keep for him. His whole life is espoused upon in a series of leather-bound books. I think five in total. In this particular letter I confessed to him the biggest parenting regret I have. I wish that I'd done more to foster a relationship between my kids. They don't fight (much), but they're not close. They annoy each other. He tolerates her. She yearns for his acceptance. I always chalked it up to the four year age difference and the boy girl thing, but I'm not sure that's it. 

I came across another journal this week. I found the words I wrote when I was living with my mom as she was dying. While it is unbelievably difficult to go back to that place...to relive it...I am grateful that I can. It was a time of incredible pain and deep love. A time of hard lessons, grace and blessings. Whether or not I read my entries, I remember everything. It's part of who I am today.

I started blogging shortly after my mom's death. I've been keeping a diary or a journal since the time I could write, but blogging was different. It wasn't just for me, but my family. I don't know that they'll ever read it, but they can if they want to. It's my attempt to immortalize the mortal. It's evidence: we came, we saw, we loved.