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“When I was little, before I was three, I learned that when someone receives many gifts for her birthday, she opens a gift, then takes a little break, sips a little wine, then she opens another gift… and so on. Then everybody goes home.”

The subject died down, but a bitter taste lingers. What happened? What happened to us?

I was gone over the weekend. Jackie faired well without me. Our reunions are always sweet, but it occurred to me that she controls herself with poise at goodbyes.

I am back home. My body is tired as we stayed up late (talking through everything) but my heart is full and my mind is enriched.

I’m home alone and I feel queazy. I’ve done it again. On a sensitive matter, I’ve expressed my point of view and got some backlash.

Conrad is in Croatia for two weeks. I’ve been looking forward to a change of pace. The house is undisturbed during the day. I keep busy, I do my thing. J goes to kindergarten and then we find things to do together in the afternoon.

This Fall I meditated and let go. I realized how little I have control over, how alone I am, but not lonely. I filled my cup to the brim, whenever I had the opportunity and I mourned the changes I feared, and then let go.

Even just acknowledging the division, anger and discord in all the social layers surrounding us, slowly, if we are not careful, it is infectious. It either pushes one into depression, or it hardens the heart and makes one to respond the same.

I made up a bedtime story yesterday. Generally, The stories we tell our kids are meant to be interrupted in order to clarify something, to comment on a behavior, to connect it to us.