Hail Teacher.

Animated morning, field trip to the zoo.
Lily was ready.
Dressed with a gymnastics medal slung over her shoulder,
Like zookeepers wear, she said.

The classroom was buzzing.
And as teachers ushered them all onto their first school bus I was emotional yet again to witness this First.
Lily's been wanting to ride a Big Yellow Bus for years.
Years.

Big Morning.

And once again, we wave our kids off -
And with breakneck speed intentionally skirt over those deep-seated concerns looming in the furthest recesses of our minds as they begin their day,
away from us.

And then I remind myself, she's in such good hands.
The Best Teachers.
Ever.

How graced we are - to have them as part of our family.
Monday's tornado horror they were throwing themselves on top of their flock.
Sheltering them, saving them.

Beautiful instinct, selfless action.

Newtown.
Oklahoma.
Everyday.
Everywhere.
Comforting, coddling, watching over them ever-closely.

I never fail to marvel during parent-teacher conferences at how well they know my girl.
Her antics, her strengths, her challenges.
Tapped into her personality with remarkable specificity.
They get her.
They get them all.

How lovingly they watch and tend our garden.

Almost bigger than fire fighters, police officers, soldiers, emergency workers.
There before the storm.
And through it.

Give these people raises.
Capes.
Thanks.
Benefits.
Something.

More.

Superheros they are.

Superheros.

True Story.

This morning's first words, 7:08am:
"Is Daddy at work already?"

Ahh beautiful, longing and wishful imagination.
If only this dream were true.
How I wish we could Disney it up in our home
Snap our fingers a la Mary Poppins and have him appear.
Just for a hug.
A really long one.
Eternal in fact.
Give that girl one of those, and then reach out your arm and bring me in too.
Sandwich her in
Tightly

Oh Pumpkin, you know he's not.

He IS!

Into the bathroom she goes, door closes.
Ten minute silence draws me in there to find her naked and cross legged on the toilet.
Are you meditating?
Yes, she says.

It's Friday.
Almost Eve of Mother's Day.
And as challenging as parenting is, I'm grateful for this.
So
Very
Grateful.

Our family lost a dear friend just a few late nights ago.
Floated away gracefully, just as Alan did,
Heartbreak in her wake.
She was a friend and a mom and a grandmother.

Earth Mother, in fact.

She
Was.

Just that afternoon as Lily zoomed through photos on my phone she stopped and lingered on just one.
She stared long and hard, lost in thought.
Fixed gaze.
It was at that moment I feared it might be one of this woman's last.

Sure enough, it was.

Lily often prefaces her "accounts" with "this is a true story, ok Mama?"
OK I say.
Sometimes I think children have a very sixth sense about things.
A teacher from last year referred to her group of classmates as Crystal Children.
Perhaps this was what she meant.

I really think Karen's grabbed on to Alan -
hands strong, fingers interwoven
Tightly.
Memories and love flowing through, re-charging one another.

That's good.

Sad, but good.
Together.

Spring Wind. Morning Blues.

Two rough mornings in a row.

Sun's coming up too soon and with it the love child who is typically naked, noisy and ready.
Noisy.
Coiling her pearls on the wooden floor, blasting a.m. radio,
singing on the toilet, keeping me out of my own shower.
Yes.
We now need to schedule our showers, despite the fact this child has her own.

Likes mine more.

And man does she take her sweet time, just like her dad.
On good days, I smile, inside and out, marveling over this creature that's no baby nor tot.
Other days, I curdle over the "tights too tiiiiiight" complaints that have apparently no answer.
Won't take em off, can't stand them on.
And then it snowballs before my eyes, and I'm arguing with a .... Creation Of Our Own Doing.
And I am dragged through dawn with problems foisted on me that I'm not allowed to assist with.
And then, like that, all I hear is dissonance.

Hello morning.
So kind of you to come.

Life is easier now, with a four year old brassy broad who'd drive herself to school if only I'd let her.
Due to age limits, the world still seems to revolve around her.

In loving truth, she's no broad, just a spirit with spine.
A girl with immense purpose.
Always.

But must we always be such athletes.

Some mornings I'm just tired of spinning.
Give me a dance.
A good, shake your ass dance.
Get me out of this morning funk.
Spring is here but the blossoms just got their pre-summer blow.
Wind took them away as it does every year, yet the warmth is slow to come.

Saw the Black Crowes a few weeks back and it just felt so good.
The music, the groove... it was... right.
What I needed.
And this song seems to be the only thing that feels good right now.
A bit of rescue.
Not sure what I'd do without music. Oh. And love.
But I'll let the music carry me for now.

And lean on the harmony when it's around.

California Healin'.

Big Week.
Lily and I took off to California in search of Princesses and Mickey, with the dream of also seeing Mary Poppins. Met up with close friends and family along the way, an action packed week.

Expectations met.
Exceeded.

Thank you Walt.

Lily is a dreamer and Disney pulled through. The highlight moment seeing Mary Poppins in the parade, with Lily whisper yelling down to me from atop a trashcan, MOM! It's the REAL one!

Smile. Heart felt good.
Wanted to take a victory lap up and down Main Street.
A monumental moment when I felt tangibly as though I was doing a good job.
Heard the roar of the way-to-go-Sus-crowd in my mind.
Glorious feat pulled off.

In truth it was all Mary.

But I think it was one for The Books.
May she remember it forever.

It was surreal looking up at my girl, silhouetted by a steady blue California sky, watching her mouth every word to supercalafragalisticexpialadoshus, marveling at the fact that I now have a four year old daughter who's making sure that the parade cast measures up to the movie.
Is this really happening?
And then to turn around to see my oldest friend with her girl, a first-timer too, eyes fixated on the same action - was... a flurry.
So many emotions balled up into a few minutes.
Ahh the power of Fantasyland.
Something to remember.
Forever.
(and we didn't lose them once, either)

So Lily and Mad embraced it all with "let's do that again!" enthusiasm after every ride.
Running in PJs between rooms equally enjoyable, giggling, with noses freckle-dusted from sun.

And then a road trip to Santa Barbara, the ocean on my left as LA sprawl melted into palm trees with If I Can't Have You wafting out of our rental car radio.
Was good.
Fun.
Nice. Easy.
THE easiest time with a child. They're stationary, strapped in, and hopefully independently occupied.
Love a road trip.
Ahhhh freedom.
FREEDOM.
So Good.

Saw family, Lily fed fish, put on shows and lay her head on her grandpa's lap.
A lovely destination.
She had her cousins for company and vacation mayhem, influencing her as only worshipped cousins will do.
I laughed when I wasn't worried for her life.
While I focused on the waves, they all drank from a fountain.
Not a water fountain.
No idea what else they were up to... Don't want to know.
Maybe Alan was on the lookout?

Week ended with grey whales and dolphins ushering us into Spring, everyone successfully remaining on-board.
Ocean does wonders for me, whales, equally palliative.
Beautiful, gentle beasts.
With my brother and dad by my side.
And a spirit as our escort.

Lily has been pointing to a tiny freckle she has on the palm of her hand.
It's Daddy, Mama.
Oh! I like that Pumpkin.

May be what kept her safe all week.

You.

What is it about peas and ravioli that prompts a child 48 hours shy of four to casually say,
Why do people sometimes cry when they're happy?

Curious.

It wasn't my prowess at boiling water that prompted her thoughts.

What made you think of that, Pumpkin?
Nothing.

Flashback to this time last year when she asked what "Let it be" meant. Struggling to define an expression that's so simple it's complicated.
Hmmm.
Well, our heart sometimes feels really good or really sad. And when something moves us, makes us really sad or really happy, our heart somehow makes tears. Good tears. Happy tears.
It just comes from inside.

Stare.
Chew ravioli.
Spoonful of peas.

Like when you were born, I was soooooo soooo happy that you were here in my arms, safe and healthy that it made me cry. You were something that Daddy helped me make and it just felt so good to see you.
I'm so articulate.
(Great. Now we'll revisit how we made you.... Way to go Sus, way to go)
And when Addison was born and Simone was born I cried too - because I was sooo happy for Uncle Dave to have such special little people in his life, that I cried.

In truth I'm not sure I'll ever be able to encapsulate with words what Lily's birth day was like. It was preceded by seven months of darkness, daze, bewilderment, ache and marvel.

Wow. This is it.
It.

What I got.
What he got.
What she gets.

Surrounded by the quietest quiet I've ever known.
Heard nothing around me.
Blank, unfeeling faces.
No one got it.

Unsplendid isolation.

Unsplendid.

But Lily moved. And kicked and lived. Persisted like crazy within.
Grew and grew, with one less artery to feed her and she just kept going.

It all makes sense now.

Like an acrobat, she was.
So much so that videos of late night maneuvers were National Geographic worthy.
And in those moments,
I smiled.
And I spoke to her, sweetly. Softly.
The only time I liked hearing my voice.
Heard my voice.
Heavy hearted but full of hope because of what she offered.
My Secret Girl.

So that day, nearly four years ago, my heart flipped again.
And joyous broken tears found a way out.
I had Maria by my side, Rita... south, at Dr. Paka's side. Robert at my elbow, and a Super-Nurse at controls.

Alan was on the wall, positioned where I could see him,
and he,
us.

Then out came a child who must never feel the burden of being the life-saver that she is.

She must have been covered in fairy dust.

In fact, last night I spied red glitter on her bellybutton.
Must
be
why...

Yesterday we had her party, and I can still hear its soundtrack of giggles, squeals and delighted laughs.
Lily and her many sweet friends, some missing their dads too - and a new one to add, sadly, to her posse within the posse.
But he'll be OK too. We'll all watch over him.
Plenty of sad tears but happy ones too.

Love like an ocean.

The best part of this morning was Lily singing Peace Like a River on her way to school.
And she's a belter.
I've got love like an ocean in my sooooooullllll...

Good way to start the day in the middle of a cold, dry, snow dusted month.
My birthday month, and Lily's.
Last week I made it to Alan's age when he passed away.
It was a day greeted with mixed emotions.
How did I get here
Why do I get this

This
Life.

So many moan and groan as birthdays approach.
Saddened by the passing of time.
What it means, what it measures, how much is left.
What has happened, what has not.

But how fortunate we are.

With our extra days, moments, highs and lows.

What so many would give to have even the worst of days.

Accept with grace, Sus.
Just do it.

Admittedly it is much more fun celebrating Lily's advancing life.
She will be four in just weeks - which I am reminded of hourly. Holidays are big in our home. Halloween and Christmas, apparently fast approaching - and I'm grateful to witness how she inhales it all.
Studies everything whether it is a piece of bread or a stick or human action.
I love to see her life take shape.

So glad I'm here.

Stored up inside me is my brother's voice when faced with life threatening illness himself,
I just want to see my kids grow up.
All I want.

He is still here.
Exhale.

So I got it good.

On my birthday as I sat on the floor, face to face with Lily - my hand steady with a spoonful of medicine - coaxing her to drink up, she cupped my face with her hands.
You know what your eyes say Mama?
What Pumpkin?

Daddy loves me.

And then she gave me a kiss.

How sweet she is
How sweet it is

All of this.

Karma. Please.

Whew.

Yesterday found me wanting to rescind my parenthood membership.
Unsubscribe.
Retire.
Fold.

Pack it in. Skip town.
Hop on the bus Gus.

Not fun.
At all.

Little did I know that yesterday morning's discussion with daughter-formerly-known-as-lily (and no, today she gets no caps) regarding whether or not Santa Claus uses mouthwash would be the loveliest, kindest, most thoughtful exchange of the day.

Would have savored it more.

Instead, a birthday party that began with calming focused yoga but topped with an icing loaded cupcake was the precursor to a very unpleasant afternoon.
In my shell-shocked recollection, the decline began with a discussion over afternoon scootering and it just
plummeted
from
there.

My exhausted threenager, a term someone generously shared with me recently, became an ornery, out of control dervish and I thought I would loose my mind.
I may have.

Admission,I did.

I'd like to rent a parent.
Just for a week.
Not a day, a week.
For consistency.
Someone to back me up. Massage my shoulders. Say go get some air.
You're Mother's Right.

They might also say:
You look fucking awesome today.
or
I like you. (Thank you Laura)
But those would be optional.

What
Is
That
Like?

The co-parenting thing.
Support from a room-mate.
In house counsel.

Even if it's not all it's cracked up to be, it's got to be good sometimes.

Sweet Relief.

And now I must snap out of IT, recharge, reboot, buck up, buckle up and jump back in.
Block out the bad, focus on the good.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Repeat.

Focus on The Good.
It's there, I know it.
Just not feelin' it
today

Dawn.

A new year has begun.

The other morning Lily climbed into bed a bit too early.
I felt her settle but she lay
silently awake.

Mama?

Silence.
Praying for sleep.

You were really really sad when Daddy died but then you went to the doctor to get me and then you weren't sad anymore, right Mama?

My eyes opened into morning night.
Heart grateful and relieved I hadn't quieted her when I'd heard her inhale, her thoughts floating, words perched,
lips ready to part.

That's right Pumpkin.
I was very very sad, but I was so so happy to know that you were on the way, and so so very happy when I had you.

Quiet.

We drifted.

Another year, and we're off.

A soft launch, with our winter trip to California still fresh in our minds.
I'm holding on to the ocean cool,
the far away sun with its gentle-sweet reach,
the air that awakens as you move through it,
breathe it in.

So much that is old is new, again.

Lily has a growing friendship with the girl next door.
And that girl's mom was my friend next door,
Many
Moons
Ago.
They're following in our footprints, filling in with their own shadows,
the same routine -
knocking on front doors,
riding the same sidewalks,
beneath the same trees.

California always lifts me up.

I had my mom, Lily had her Jiji.
An uncle,cousins, an aunt, friends and kids all
swooped
in.
For love and meals and play.
For music and a mountain.
It will always be home.

We made it to my favorite place.
Lily's first visit to the ridge beneath Mt. Tam.
Henry and Jakie in tow.
Firsts for all, they trudged through tall, wet grass,
dragged branches,
discovered burrowed holes,
delighted in the vastness of their surroundings -
Kings and Queen of mountains.

Just as I had at the very same age.

I remember a picnic there, on a cool gray day, spying bedded down grass where deer had slept, animal remnants, feeling the freedom of never-ending play space with only trees to herd us into view.

A beautiful reprise, but now with our children.
Thankfully, some things never change.

I told Lily to take a deep breath.

Listen, I said
To what mama?
The quiet.
What is it mama?
It's nothing, just silence - only nature sounds Lily, just nature.
We both inhaled a la Harold and Maude.
Took it all in.

Felt
So
Good.

And the city girl who often yearns for her home
didn't
want
to leave.

Smile.

Yes, Joy. (Love to Newtown)

Found myself singing Oh Happy Day on my way to work this morning.

When Lily heard her first gospel last year she jived with her eyes closed to it.
It was a beautiful moment.
She felt the music and the words.
Washed right through her.

And it is a Happy Day.
Today.
It is.

I feel it.
The Joy.

Every morning when I hear Lily bursting with song from behind closed doors as she busies herself in the bathroom.
I feel it when she proudly shows me her Yellow Taxi Box constructed at school,
as a friend climbs in behind her and requests a ride to 86th Street.
I feel it when I think of my friends in Portland.
California.
New York.

And family.

Of fellow moms with whom I share this voyage.
As we relish and commiserate, laugh, hug, rant and cry over the blessings and aches of parenthood.

I feel it when gentle fog keeps a morning soft.

I feel it when our President is such a man
That he sheds expected armor for grief.
Shows us that human strength can be measured with tears and compassion.
Takes us right back to Rosey Grier singing It's Alright to Cry.
(Go on, click it.)

Because it is.

And so many hearts are weeping through these December days.
And will weep and weep until they feel as though the pain can't cut any deeper.
Though it surely will.
Through the bone and the heart and the roots and the deep deep dirt.
It will crumple and crush until all the air seems gone.

So I must let myself feel the joy.

That I get another day with my girl.
And she gets another day with so many who love her.
And that there are some things I can do to fulfill my part of the job as best I can.
Shower her with love.
Hold her hand crossing the street.
Buckle her in.
Feed her good food.
Say no as I wrap my arms around her.

I struggle.
A lot.
And fear is no friend to any mom or dad.
All we want is the best for our children.
They mean so much to us
It
Is
Indescribable.

Beloved Treasures.

Our beautiful little animals who's scents we inhale every night.
Feed and bathe and stroke and pat and nudge.

Lily and I often say to one another
I Love You More Than Words Can Tell.
And though she may not grasp the depth of the lyric, I love feeling her hot breath as she child-whispers the words sweetly and indelicately into my ear.

This morning she yelled them from the bathroom.
Followed by, I love you more than ice creeeeeeeeam!
and
I love you more than crocodiles!

Smile.

Lucky day.
Lovely day.
Every day is a joyful day.

When we get to be with them.

Please.
May we all have many, many
more.

Oh November...

What a number this November has pulled.
Around us lives were washed away.
From our backyards.
From arms.
Loving arms.
Swept
Away

just like

that

Not a believer that things happen for a reason - they do, but I don't believe some presence somewhere directs. Unless it's a beloved spirit watching, guiding, loving from above.
Nature just .... is.
Happy, angry, reactive, vulnerable

so like my girl. too.
and her mom.

We can be a torrential team.
And our recent home-life has endured it's own storm of sorts.
Filled with love and fun but also battles of will.
Like mother like daughter, we are stoic forces
with wispy,
fragile insides.

A month of unrest.
And I, a mother of unrest.
Lily is moving, growing, shaking like the earth, reaching stunningly to grab hold of something but I'm not sure what it is.

Could be Alan.
Maybe not.

But she is trying valiantly, to steady herself, and I as well.
It's not easy being three going on twelve.
And it's sure as hell not easy being an only parent.
A lonely, only parent
(why am I now singing that to the tune of Rhinestone Cowboy?)

Puts the hardest job
over
the
top.

Tops the top.

She wants to know what her dad sounded like.
Rich, deep, velvety.
I play her a recorded framed picture I have of us.
Hi Sus. I love you Sus.
He says.
She wants to know what Halloween candy he liked.
This one mama? This one? She asks
Yes, yes, no, no ... KitKat, Nerds, Twizzlers.
Weeks ago on a walk home from the park
Is Daddy alone mama?

Oh to have one's darkest fears articulated by a child.

I don't think so pumpkin,
I think he is with others and they all love each other.
Very much.
And yesterday, is he with Papi and Charli doggie?
Are they together mama?
Yes Pumpkin, I think they are.

Is he in Jake's heart?
Yes, Lily, I think he is.

I love nature but I don't like how it takes away.
So unfeeling at times.

Hurts...

Hurts.

Portlandia

How nice it was to head West for the weekend. The good vibes began with a passenger playing acoustic at the gate in Newark and it just got earthier from there.

Love
Returning
to the
North
West

Lily and I embraced Oregon to the hilt.
Stayed with a favorite family and it was
The Best.
It all began with a bumper sticker on their wall that read
What's
Going
Well?

Hilarious.

New York needs a bit more of that perspective.
Or perhaps I do.
Let's all hit the trails, grow beards and drink micro-brews.
Attend cool, ecclectic radio shows.
(Kudos, Rob. Kudos to you)
I generalize... but damn that fresh air was FRESH.
The trees were green.
Really green.
And people were ruddy complexioned, book loving, slow food eating,
Smiling
Happy
People

(seemingly).

I embraced Wordstock, got to introduce my book to a beanbag chair audience with Lily by my side. She was a perfect co-presenter, my muse - except when she took the stage during the next author's presentation - stating to me as I quietly ushered her off that she was about to do some "speakin in Spanish".
I later moderated a panel of memoir-ists who have written wonderfully lyrical, dark and inspiring accounts of their lives until now. It was a rich and surprisingly uplifting way to close out the festival.

A good reminder that life goes on, in many positive directions.

Lily loved the "book show" and was in heaven running up and down stairs with Sam and Aliza as her destinations for three days straight. Siblings almost, they showered her with never ending attention and genuine friendship. I got the same from their parents and from my mom and brother who came up from Ca.
Lucky people we are, surrounded by such love and kindness.

So yes,

Much
Went
Well

Moved.

Done.
We did it.
The long awaited, much anticipated transition from the only home Lily's known and the one where Alan and I spent our lives together finally happened.
Hard.
So very hard.
I am not sure other than the moment right after Alan passed away I've ever felt so alone.
Moving is hard enough. And when there's no partner to share it with it's even more of a challenge. Not to mention I was leaving Alan's home that he so proudly bought, not to mention there were anonymous people who have no care for one's personal possessions - handling my husbands things, my things, my daughters things.
It was an invasion.
A frenetic, overwhelming thrust out of one home into another.
And it's not that I wasn't excited to move.
I
was
ready.
We were ready.
But.
I just didn't know my sense of alone-ness could be any greater.
And yet, it was.
Set
my
own
record.

Knocked the wind out of me.

And all I could do was sprint through the day, chasing carts and clinging to memories left in their wake.

Release an empty apartment echoing with sobs at the end of a terminal day.

Life.

Shit.

Happiness.Pain.Love.Death.New life.
Cycles.
All cycles.
My very own marathon.

Our new apartment is the perfect stepping stone for wherever we'll head next.
Me and my girl.
Still close to where we once were, but looking forward to what lies ahead.
And it feels good.
As I write - I'm in my own room, and she in hers.

Like we both just got to college.

Strange.
Special.

So we're doing OK. Landed fine.
But the home stretch was trying on us both.
Moved us inside and out.
Lily's been an easy rider, some roughness around her edges, but she's taken on her new digs with admirable cool.
And I'm just on the other side of the wall, rediscovering and loving new found adult space and weening myself from my babe who's really a girl now.

A dear-friend-soul-sister shared a thought with me that illuminated exactly what I've been grappling with - we can be surrounded by family and friends who love us and who we love but it's still a singular journey.

Singular
Journey
It
Is.

Wait...

First day of school had a soft launch.
All of a sudden back-to-school seemed routine, with curious anticipation and generally tempered excitement.
Her teachers had already come to visit us at home, so I guess that was all she needed.
Lily was ready.
Why am I not surprised?

She picked out her clothes, and two relatively undramatic wardrobe changes later, we walked to the bus, happily re-connected with school buddies and upon arrival she was...
off.
sprinting delightedly with her friends,
flying up church steps,
reeling through the "pushing doors",
and there we were, round two - second year bigger than the first.

How
Time
Flies

Her cubby was waiting, teachers energetically in place, Lily entered the room and didn't look back.
Five minutes in,
I want you to go Mama.

And I was... dismissed.
Love
Independence
Independence
Love.

Happy/Sad I left the room, spying on her playdoh play, and not so emotional - just... jolted. Somewhere Alan must have been saying,
Go Sus,
go.
Maybe he lingered with her, or maybe she gently nudged his spirit away too ~
Surely he was with us today.
Many were with us -
An old friend who knew him and new friends who know of him, so they rounded out the picture ~

Plenty of beauty in the air today.

As my brother recently shared with me, Bruce has added a chant to his shows - to honor beloved band members no longer alive:

If you're here,
And we're here,
Then they're here.

Sigh.

Must be.

Must be.

Oh August.

This month.
A milestone.
Many milestones.
Much seems to culminate in a season's closing month.
We reached California at just the right time - it allowed me space from distance travelled in NYC.

I needed it.

I had just handed down my maternity clothes.
Handed off a baby swing, a bouncy chair.
Recently offered up the breast pump.
Sold my baby carrier.

Logical decisions for some, for me, so loaded.
Each item endowed with memories from unusual and beautiful times spent with Lily.
Little does she know how life saving her anticipated presence and emergence were.

Are.

And to acknowledge that most likely I no longer have need for those same cherished items was painful.

Is painful.

But I did it.
Surrendered.
Shared.
Grew.

And I do feel stronger.
I am OK.
Not to self - been through much worse.
Much, much worse.
So with August has come some perspective.
I see where I've been, I am proud of the ground I've covered.

And still much more ahead.

Sure there is much I long for.
And the dreams I once had still remain.
Can't shake 'em.
Hell, I deserve them.
But many of us deserve that which we don't get.
Lily, for example.
Not to mention her dad.

I wish he was here Mama so I could run to him and run back, and run to him and run back....

I know you do Pumpkin, I know.

But as I remind myself and Lily in less poignant moments, now that she's heard THE song ~
You can't always get what you want...
But if you try sometime, you'll find.... you get what you need.

And I do.
We do.
We have a lot.
And for that, I am grateful.

August Days.

Summer is folding its arms, sleepily closing up shop.
Taking it's time, as it should.
And as steamy days inched toward closure here, Lily and I jumped ship and visited the West Coast.
It was a perfect trip.
We lived so much in a week.
I think all we mostly said was Yes.

It felt good to... go.
Let ourselves go.

Old friends and newer lives to reconnect with.
Bubbles in the sun, spontaneous meals, rocks in a creek,
Redwood cool,
ever-dirty-back-and-forth-barefoot-feet.
Three generations of women, ever-doting-over-everything... Grandmothers, mamas and girls.
Just as we had pretended when we were small.
Real 'house' now.
So much more than we had imagined.

Loving cousins, cool Uncle, and proud Grandpa.
Dim Sum, Cable Cars and a steam train through the woods.

And no weighty fog this time.
It hovered across the bay, kept it's distance.
Sunny days, every day.
I had always wished for Alan days like this - but maybe the blustery cold on our visits was designed for his favorite warm sweaters, and rough sails.

Happy hours were spent in vineyard heat & outdoor showers. Lily ran gleefully through gardens, over gravel and bark, trailing two big girls who were full of spirit, innovation, and devotion, while I relished in moments with a dear old-soul friend and model mama.
We fed chickens, picked candy strawberries, pink apples and fresh vegetables for dinner.
Sticky first S'more for dessert.

She draped herself over rope-swings.
Floated languidly through brick oven heat.

It
was
bliss.

New York is undeniably in Lily's character but when I see her out West, I can see her great great grandmother, just like her Jiji says: Deep dark eyes. Strong stance.

My little oak.

And the way she says California always makes me smile.
Just the way my Gigi said it.
Califonia, no r.

Oh
to
be

Home.