Photo Wednesday 3: when the light goes out

The other afternoon, the power went out.  It was out from 4:30 to about 7:30.  So we all climbed into bed together and read by flashlight.  First, I read two books that Whit’s godmother sent to the kids all the way from Beijing.  Then everybody read their own books.  I generally hate when the power is out but this was about as good as it gets.

photo Wednesday 1

 

How I found him when I went in to tuck him in, Saturday May 5th.  He won the disco ball at our school fair and, unbeknownst to me, installed it himself.  This child also sleeps, at various times, clutching a compass and wearing 3D glasses.  I’d love to see what his dreams are like.

Images from a week by the sea

A symphony of blues.

9.5 years since a successful heart transplant.

Our long shadows on a morning walk out to the end of a pier into the ocean.

Caped in towels, they disappear around the curve.

Sunsets every evening over the Gulf of Mexico that took my breath away.

If that’s not sacred, I don’t know what is.

Enormous excitement over the honey badgers at the Naples Zoo.  I swear Whit has not seen the YouTube video, but you’d think he had because his rendition of “honey badger don’t care” is eerily good.

Worn red barns, fresh snow, and birthday candles

It is with my iphone, most of all, that I capture those tiny moments and details through which I glimpse the eternal.  Here are some, from the 7th birthday edition.

The view from the sink at our dear friends’ house in New Hampshire where we spent Martin Luther King weekend.  I remember the weekend when that red barn went up.  Now it is time-scarred and worn.  More evidence of life, leaving its mark on all of us, in ways both visible and unseen.

Reading to a six year old before bed for the very last time in my life.  After putting him to bed I bawled my eyes out.  I know, I know, I know: very ending is a new beginning, and it does just keep getting better and better.  Still, something is ending, and I’m incapable of not mourning that.

On Whit’s birthday I found him standing, silently, in my office looking out the window at the snow.  He was delighted beyond words at the white world.  When we got to school, both kids and Matt made tracks in the fresh, untouched blanket of snow.

The message Whit left in the snow: I’m 7.  It reminded me of our late-summer day at Crane’s Beach, when the children both wrote in the sand and then watched their messages eroded by the inexorably rising tide.

We celebrated Whit’s birthday with dinner at home.  My parents and Matt’s dad joined us for pizza, roast chicken, and salad with homemade croutons (Whit chose the menu).  The birthday boy’s cake request was chocolate, with chocolate icing.

Our front door.  I actually dislike Valentine’s Day, and always have.  I like its decorations, though, and I finally realized it is because I love red and pink together.  This wreath makes me smile every time I come home.