MountainMornings

We’re back up in NY for a short time. There’s a slight chill in the air. One of us is going under the knife today and I wish it was me. 

That must be love. Wanting to take away every pain, to soak it into your own skin and own it. Wear it like a badge of unadulterated positive regard. Look, see how I can heal my beloved with a mere touch of my hand. 

I knew this was the kind of powerful love we feel for our children. I’ve spent many nights over the years trying to sap a fever away from one child or another, trying it on myself instead. Bargaining with God in some twisted take on Faust. 

I didn’t expect after 36 years to still feel such primitive devotion. Such tenderness. And I told him not to worry about me. Because I will always be alright. Whatever happens, we made a vow and I’m sticking to it. A deal is a deal 

Early this evening Ada told me to “dress for dinner” and I had no idea what she was talking about. We were heading out, we had just finished dinner. She looked at me and gestured toward her chin – the implication became clear. Whatever happens, I need to be strong. 

This picture is from 1992, somewhere on the Jersey Shore, when he had salt and pepper hair. We’ve been through so much over the years. And he’s always been my safe harbor. Now I get to be his for awhile.