The edge of seventeen

 Dear M,

You greeted your birthday as you do most things--full of chill.

That is how you handled your ear surgery in June; it's how you handled your recent wrist surgery. It's how you handled your first relationship and breakup this past spring. 

Sometimes I can't believe you're my kid because for 30 years of my life, I was low on chill. (And am only better now with pharmaceuticals.)

If it wasn't for our matching hair color and style, I maybe wouldn't even know you're my kid. 

Oh, EXCEPT FOR THE SNARK!

You are the king of sharp comebacks at the dinner table and make us laugh all the time. And it is both what you say and your delivery, which is always understated and perfect. It is a much different vibe that your early days of singing about Elmo while showing off your nipples or imitating the clown nurse from Adventure Time. 

Because of how up G's butt you were when you were little, I worried if I would ever get to know the real M. But you continue to become your own person, developing your interests and showing me by things you say that you are a decent, caring young man. When you told me about a friend's troubles and how you responded, I was so proud of you being able to talk about your feelings not only with your friend but with me. 

I tease you about being "Baby M," but because you are my last child, I do feel the tiniest bit of sadness at milestones that I didn't experience with N and G. But I'm 99.9% not sad and just proud to see the person you are becoming who can figure things out in a way that neither your dad nor G are able to. Like finding the ketchup. I would think it was just a guy thing if it wasn't for you. 

I hope your wrist heals fast and that you have a good junior year. I'm curious to see how life will unfold for you with your plan for co-op and mid-year graduation in 2027. I can't believe I'm typing that about baby M.

I love you always,

Mom

Last year of the teens

Dear G,

Yesterday you turned 19. We celebrated with dinner at Oriental House and treats from a local panaderia. 

So many things have changed from a year ago. 

At that time, you were working a co-op job so arriving for classes at 7:30 and cutting out at 11:30 to either work or come home and work on your extra classes to graduate in December. You were applying to college. You were very done with high school.

You learned a lot from working for a full year, about how businesses run, about workplace drama and employment aggravations, about the type of job you would want to do over the long-term (not something where you sweat). 

Since you weren't in school during the spring, you participated in "Mom's Life Skills Semester" whereby you learned how to cook and be a sous chef, cutting vegetables and helping prep meals. You learned how to do your own laundry and clean the bathroom. 

What a difference a year makes; what a difference some six weeks make. 

You have adjusted pretty well to college, although the engineering math class has proved a pain in the butt for you, for me, for dad, for anyone who has to listen to you complain about it. And it has been the cause of your first clarifying moment of young adulthood: finding out what you thought you might want to do is, in fact, not what you want to do. 

Now your dad didn't experience that feeling until much later, after he had completed his degrees when he was unhappy in his job and wondered what might have been. Maybe he should have gone to medical school? 

I, on the other hand, never really landed on whatever it was I was definitely going to do. I only declared a major during second semester junior year because the school made me. I decided based on what I had enough credits for, which were classes I just enjoyed taking and did well in: english and economics. Even now in my 50s, I don't do any one thing but dabble in things I like that give me flexibility. 

So in addition to just learning how to do college, you're learning about how you prefer to learn. You're learning that you don't like a super fast pace. You're learning that it is ok to have one maybe sorta idea of what you might be interested in and then deciding that path isn't right. 

You've been learning how to handle your own medical appointments and prescription refills. How to take your car for oil changes. How to manage your own checking account. 

Because of your sensititives, I worried about how you would adjust to preschool. And then I worried about how you would adjust to elementary school, and then middle school, and then high school. But you've done fine every time. So I decided not to worry about college. 

And you've proven that I don't have to worry.

You are bright and inquisitive. You are responsible and risk-averse. If someone shows you how to do something, you pick it up quickly. And if you need help, you know that you can come to me and dad (or your big sis, who is proving invaluable because of her experience at the same college), and we will try to steer you in the best direction. 

But most importantly, you are learning that you can adapt. You don't like change and never have, but in the past year instead saying something like "I don't like it" when something changes, you say "I don't like it, but I will adjust." 

And if there is ever a mindset to carry through the peaks that feel too high to climb and valleys that feel too low to survive, that is it. 

Your dad and I are both so proud of the man you are becoming, but we have always loved the essence of you that remains the same since you were a child.

Forever,

Mom

A wonderful, awesome, empowering, very good day

This kind of day is altogether different from a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. 

And, truth be told, I don't often get them. Between perimenopause and mood disorder, I feel like most days I'm at 40% "meh" and 60% "fuck this."  

For 4.5 years, I've been at a local high school working with credit recovery students and most of the time, I feel like I'm sticking bandaids on carotid hemorrhages. Foster situations, sky-high absentee rates, high-as-a-kite glazed eyes, lack of motivation, non-native English speaking students who are trying to get through chemistry, reading and math levels lower than what I probably scored in third grade--it's not a place where students feel like masters of their destinies. 

At worst, it gives rings of hell. At best, purgatory. 

Yet I like being there because I do form relationships with students, which is vastly different from a normal substitute teacher situation. Some kids I have shephered since freshman year. One boy stops to chat--he is now a senior---and it will be good to see him cross the finish line in a few months. 

And it is only two days a week so I have breathing room in between. 

Still, many days feel Sisyphean. 

But not Thursday of this week. 

Because on Thursday, two sisters---one of whom never shows and the other who has been sleeping in credit recovery class---showed up after I called and left a message with their mom about not wanting them to fall behind. And both girls were ready to talk to me and ask for help. 

And on Thursday, a teacher I spoke to before school asked if I worked with C, and when I said yes, we came up with a plan for me to help C finish some work so she could pass English from last semester. In class, C did the work eagerly, and it felt like VICTORY. 

Then D, who is real hit or miss on feeling motivated, said, after I told him I would work with him on makeup English work for the aforementioned teacher if he wanted to, "I've got my English work" as I started to walk away. So he knocked out that assignment. 

And W, a mid-year graduate whose completion was delayed because he was shot, worked with me all day to wrap up his stuff so that he can get his diploma. 

Thursday felt like 100% springtime ephemerals blooming, limoncello on Capri, and the perfect light nap on my favorite couch all rolled into one. 

Horrified, yet oddly consoled

It is a wave that girds you now,

And its movement, swirling forward and up, then down,

Stirs the back of the throat, 

The excess saliva, the churn of the stomach. 

That is a normal sensation, a normal reaction

To what you witness.

Toting their weapons, the unidentifiables, no badges, no identification. 

The ones who seem to take glee in horror. 

To brandish your papers doesn't matter to them. 

They are convinced of their righteousness.

....

You feel that movement again, don't you?

You feel it now in the -3 degrees of Minneapolis, 

But it has moved before.

In January 1839 when biting cold lashed at legs and arms, armed guards

setting the pace to Oklahoma. 

That movement surged in warmer months, too. 

1921 in Logan County.

A struggle for work, for safety, for dignity, for something other than scrip.

And again in 1791 in Washington County.

In 1831 in Southhampton County.

In 1960 in Sharpville. 

In 1982 in Lubin.

In 2019 in Santiago.

In 1989 in Dongcheng.

And through all of time. 

Mostly unrecorded,

But witnessed by others on the wave,

Who were also sickened to the core. 

.... 

An antidote?

Oh no, I'm sorry; none exists. 

You must witness these things in 

The timeline on which your life rests. 

The third child turned 16 and has to wait weeks and weeks for a bday letter

 Dear M,

You should be used to this by now, right?

As the third child, you got the clothing hand-me-downs from not just your brother but your cousins, meaning some of your clothing has been well-loved three separate times before you get a chance to wear it. 

It has always been difficult for you to get a word in when your sister and brother are part of the conversation. 

Your childhood journal has the least amount of entries because I was so busy even if I did think, "I need to write this down," by the time I had a moment, I had forgotten what you did or said. 

And now, your milestone 16th birthday came and went and I am writing this letter to you weeks later. I even had to put a reminder in my phone to do it. 

You have, in many respects, raised yourself, in large part from observing your sister and brother and applying it to yourself. You've paid attention to their interactions with me and learned how to fly under the radar---not causing trouble, not having to listen to lectures. 

So what are you like at 16?

Well, you got your driving permit this past summer and have been learning how to drive, even though I'm pretty sure you won't be doing it much or at all on your own until your senior year (even used cars these days are ridiculously expensive). But you don't seem to be bothered or even a little concerned about this. 

Because your brother and sister are so busy with "real" jobs, you are now pretty much the lone worker at the neighborhood petsitting gig, which allows you to earn and save even more money. If anyone takes after his Pa in terms of saving every dollar he earns, it is you (with some competition from your cousin A). I often joke that you will buy a house and your brother will have to rent a room (he inherited from Papaw T his inability to hold a dollar in his pocket without spending it). 

Of my three kids, you are, by far, the snarkiest. 

At dinner this past August, when we were talking about what attributes each of you got from me or dad, you said, "I got my pettiness from mom," which is both hilarious and true. I can still recall when you were about 4 years old on vacation, a server at a restaurant said to you, "If you color your picture in, I'll hang it up." You smiled at her and as she walked away under your breath you mumbled, "No promises." 

You have a gentle spirit, which is why you are the animal whisperer. You have a way with cats and dogs that they seem to love. 

You also have amazing hair! You have grown it long, and I'm fairly certain it makes every girl who sees you very jealous. In your school photo this year, you are definitely giving off 80s hair band / serial killer vibes. I adore that picture of you because it makes me laugh every.single.time. 👇

The closer you get to age 18 and adulthood, the more I wonder about what you will do. You tolerate school but don't love it, and I suspect it is because of all the sitting. You have even remarked to me that you keep your grades up because you know it is expected but you are mostly bored. Now that your brother is doing early graduation, I anticipate you will follow suit. 

I have no clue what you will pursue as a career, but I can't see it being a desk job mostly because of how you feel about school. I think you'll want to do something that will allow you to be up and about. 

Even though I'm uncertain about what your future holds, I am very certain that I love you, and I am so very glad we got you as our bonus 16 years ago. We cannot imagine a life without you in it. 

Love you always,

Momma

Voting age birthday

 Dear G,

I don't know why it is that your older sister's birthdays seem to come slowly, while yours come flying out of nowhere. I suspect it is because she flew solo for almost four years before you came along. Those days dragged on forever sometimes. Once you arrived, and then your brother two years later, life has been on full throttle for me. Time hasn't stopped or even slowed down much since you arrived. 

You've experienced a lot of changes in the past year.

You finished up junior year without issues, although I think this is mostly because the first two years of high school wore you the heck out in terms of drama, and you've decided school is just for learning. You have never been a "joiner," but you had made friendships. Once those seemed to be more trouble than they were worth, you decided to forego those. You get in, you get out, you relax at home. That is your school day.

I can't say I blame you. You are sensitive guy, like your dad, and that is a wonderful thing to be...but maybe primarily as an adult. I am sure it is horrible as a teenager. Most teenage boys are in the thick of machismo---beating their chests to prove they are guys to other guys. None of them have the emotional wherewithal to accept that whatever kind of guy they are is the guy they are, and they have nothing to prove to anyone. (I suspect I need to also relay this memo to a certain Secretary of Defense who seems to think that being a man means no feelings and macho-macho all the time.)

I digress. 

The upshot of avoiding drama is that you're on track to graduate a semester early. You got a job in July, despite all my worrying that it wouldn't happen, and have been working close to 30 hours a week as part of your co-op, plus keeping your grades up in your other classes. Dad and I are really impressed with you!

I'm proud of the way you pack your lunch the night before work and leave your work clothes on the table so you can grab them on your way out. You do an excellent job of staying on top of your responsibilities. And when I see you at work, I see you in a different light, not as your mom but as a customer, as a stranger. It is kind of fun to see you through that lens. I think, "What a handsome young man with a nice smile." 

Your job has given you topics of conversation including the gigantic apple you were amazed to show us and the workplace gossip that you share with us. 

You got your license after a few hiccups, but I think that was anxiety rather than not knowing what you're doing. Trust me, there are plenty of people on the road doing crazy shit, and you're not one of them. I'm proud of you for being careful. Now just watch out for the bozos. 

I enjoy our movie nights together and the conversations that come from those evenings. We've covered a lot of ground, from silent films for your film class to zombie flicks (28 Weeks Later) to war films (All Quiet on the Western Front) to mind-blowers like Tenet. 

I remember several years ago when you couldn't stand the idea of becoming a young man and fought it with everything in you, and now here you are,...a young man. You still have about six more years worth of prefrontal cortex develop on tap, but you have come such a long way from your days of tantrums and unmanageable anxiety. 

I don't know what the next few years will bring in terms of college and jobs and all that. I suspect I will go into them as I have since you were little: a little afraid of how you will do, wondering if it will overwhelm you. But in every situation, my worries were unfounded. I worried about kindergarten, and you did great. Then middle school. Then high school. This isn't to say that there weren't problems and unhappiness; those are part of life. But we managed them together, and we will continue to do that. 

You are a smart guy and, more importantly, you are sensitive and open to ideas. Sure, you still like to dig in your heels about change that you can't control but you are able to take a joke about it. Like when you say you want to move to Sweden as an adult, and I remind you that you hate the idea of me renovating the kitchen because it is too much change but sure...go ahead and change entire countries. 

You are one of a kind, G, and I'm so glad you're ours.

Love you,

Momma

30 years since the hook up

Next month marks 30 years that D and I have been together as a couple. 

Our story started with dental insurance, which is where every romance begins. 

Good lord, I look pale. 

He was finishing his master's degree, and I was wrapping up my bachelor's degree. We had worked for the same company for a bit, seeing each other in the halls or kitchen. I worked part-time as a file clerk, and he worked in the IT department. I thought he was cute---tall, dark, and nerdy. Imagine a young Harold Ramis in Ghostbusters and you've seen D in his late 20s. My co-workers were dying to set us up. 

I think D and I spoke to each other once in the elevator before we "happened" to both go a going-away drinking session for a coworker in accounting who was leaving the company. We all met at a bar, and I spent most of the night chatting with the husband of one of D's coworkers. I'm not sure D said anything to me until we left and walked to our cars. Whatever he said wasn't memorable. 

What was memorable is that two days later, he called me and asked me to go for a walk at a park. I was sitting on my porch reading The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck when my parents told me I had a phone call. (Gawd, just typing that feels ancient---when I didn't have a phone strapped to my hip.)

We met at the dental office parking lot and drove together to the park. We stopped at Ear-X-Tacy, where I refused to let him buy me a Jeff Buckley LP (because then I would owe him something and we weren't having any of that). I remember nothing that we talked about. 

What I do remember is that he asked me out for the following weekend, which is the surefire way to my heart---asking me well in advance to do an activity. I have never liked being treated like a last minute "might as well" by anyone. 

The night of our first "date" date, we went to dinner at the Bristol where D proceeded to not talk much at all. It was awkward, and I remember thinking to myself, "This is probably going nowhere." We then went to see a play called "Angry Housewives," a title I didn't realize was so prescient to what our future would be. I remember when we were leaving, D placed his hand on the middle of my back, whether to keep hold of me in the crowd or steady my way I don't know, but I recall liking the feeling. Still, I didn't know if it made up for the not talking/awkward dinner. 

He drove me home and we took a walk all over the neighborhood in the dark, and like Robert Frost noted, that made all the difference. Something about the darkness allowed D to come out his shell. He told me he watched the film Orlando and enjoyed it, which is the sum total of what I remember us discussing. Oh, and he kissed me before he left. 

Hot and heaviness followed for a year until we got engaged, 29 years ago this month. We married 18 months after that. 

We will soon be having a big to-do of sorts, which I didn't specifically plan for our 30 years of togetherness, but it happens to coincide with it so I'm calling it our "celebration." Of course, it isn't a party---did you not read anything about the quiet dude I hooked myself up with 30 years ago? 

I looked back while composing this to see what else I've written here about marriage, and I've periodically, dating back to our 15th wedding anniversary, written about our relationship, mostly in good terms. It hasn't been all roses, for sure. 

But he's quiet, and I have a hard time being around people who blather on. And he doesn't like sports, which is the other reason he stole my heart besides asking me out for a date a week ahead of time. He's not a messy guy, and he looks good in a beard, and he, more or less, doesn't care what I do. He thinks I'm funny and smart. And I'm assertive enough to politely tell a solicitor we don't want any and goodbye so that D doesn't have to do it when he accidentally is too close to the glass-paneled front door when someone knocks, and he (thinks he) can't really hide. He's still tall and nerdy but now gray all over---still giving off Egon vibes 30 years on. 

May 2, 2025