Relics

 We're getting things ready for change around here. I'll update when it materializes.

In the meantime, there's stuff to do. I'm going through clothes, closets, trying to figure out what to donate, what's still getting worn, what's too big or too small...this is definitely not a preferred activity. 

The clearing out has been happening in stages. I get overwhelmed sometimes by the sheer volume of stuff that needs to be gone through.  My last epic purge was the garage; I packed the entire back of our van with our alley of broken dreams--all the stuff we optimistically purchased in hopes of our kids picking up or wanting to do x, y, and z.

I remember how hard that was.

Harder is going through things that younger might not be interested in NOW, but he'll be looking for it in 6 months, a year, a decade...

And sorting out the stuff that I think needs to be saved: the hoodie from cross country track with his last name emblazoned across the back (which elder hasn't worn since that season; I'm wearing it, now). Younger has jackets from his activities with his name and year on them (neither of which he wears--I do, because they are there and someone needs to wear them). Which leads me to a little reflection on how we parents remember things versus how our kids remember things.

I remember pride that my boys were a part of something that merited their names going on it.

They remember mom pushing them to do something that took them away from their screens.

But when I'm gone, what will they remember?

Maybe the bird. Maybe the class trips, or the classroom visitations. Maybe scouts. Maybe track, or PREP. Maybe the guest lectures. Or our impromptu road trips.

I hope, that when they are both reflecting on their lives that have gone by, that they have no regrets, that they gave everything they ever wanted their best shot. 

I don't necessarily want either of them to change the world; I just want them to make their worlds a good place for them to live in. 

Thankful, the Board/Bored Life and Other Flotsam

 This blog is likely to go off on a few tangents; in other words, business as usual.

Settling down from a loud bang and its aftershocks. I made a couple trips up to my favorite place so I could hang at another favorite place on Saturday; another socially distanced beer tasting among my peeps with the boys in tow hanging out with their friend. Hubby joined us a little later on. It's been a very long time since I've felt at home with all and every level of conversation--as a group, we broke out into our own little tangents, and came back together again, to reform another small break out of more tangents, and so forth and so on. We watched the sky darken and stars come out. Conversation ebbed and flowed. The boys ordered pizza and walked to go pick it up. 

Such a wonderful taste of normal in a year that's been anything but. 

Yesterday was back to our COVD hole; dinner apart from our family, hopefully for the last time (one shot down as a household, one to go).  I think we had collective disappointment, but at least we had Saturday.

And I don't always have to bring beer, but I am happy to.

And then I had a quiet chuckle as an invite to apply for a board chair came through my email. I actually considered it for a hot minute.  Then I remembered I got tossed off the last few boards I sat on, so why do I want to do that again?  (Isn't the definition on insanity doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result?)

Moving on. 

So, elder's liver panel came back clean, but I am sweating that his DNA test is taking so long to come back. We were supposed to get results today (the rest of us have ours), but his got pushed out another week with an ETD of next Monday (and there was a caveat that there could be another week on top of that).  I'm trying not to read too much into what this might or might not mean, but I am a little....concerned.

And hubby and I both did some autism screening tests yesterday. His scores were high, but mine were higher. 

In other words, neither test told either of us anything we didn't already know. 

Younger got his first paycheck on Saturday, so that was cool. He is happy to be a working man. 

Just keeping on. And hoping for the best. 

At One with the Miraculous

 I've been spending a little time every day saying small prayers of gratitude.  

So I am going to spend today spending a lot more time in that space of the divine, because the divine surely has had a hand in a few things.

Elder's liver enzymes are back to normal. We don't know definitively what to attribute this to, but there it is. 

Younger continues to floor me in ways great and small. Coming home casually with a job in his back pocket was one of  his surprises.  The varsity letter (this time for bowling) he pulled out of his backpack a couple days ago was another.  He's blunt to the point of rude, but he calls everyone sir or ma'am and remembers to say please and thank you, so perhaps his bluntness is forgivable. 

Early morning dreams put me in the same space of some dearly, recently departed loved ones, leading me to think about the divine and sacred places. Anywhere with the three of my boys is one of these places--it's almost like the four of us together create a forcefield.  But in the absence of them, I find the woods a good go-to. 

But when the world rocks me back on my heels, I take off to Green Lane and Perkiomen Valley Brewery.

I seldom name names to places, but in this case, I'll make an exception; it's owned by dear friends who not only work amazing magic in their fermenters (every single one of their beers is amazing), but they have also created a safe and welcoming space for everyone. You cannot walk in there and not feel you are in touch with the divine. That the owners have instilled such an abiding sense of calm and peace in this place is something of a miracle in it of itself.

I went for a drive up there last night, meandering through the countryside, past sheep, getting a little lost, but I needed the meander. And when I arrived, the runners club was all there enjoying a post run libation. A couple ladies enjoyed a flight or two with their dinner. And I enjoyed the music, the buzz, chatting with one of the owners and the barkeeps, catching up on everyone's news, and returned in an equally circuitous route with a trunk full of cheer. 

As always, I will give most of the beer away. It's great advertising. 

When someone creates a space for the divine, you honor it by making sure it sticks around for a while.