It is the sixth day since you crossed the rainbow bridge. It never occurred to me you would go on this adventure so soon. I imagined us growing into senior years together. Your slick, incredibly shiny black coat would slowly show the gray hairs of time’s passage. I inspected you often scouting for the changes. Only three hairs on the spot above your left brow. There was one, and then this past year two more arrived. You were barely five. I would have continued bragging rights to your youthfulness. Most people assumed you were a puppy because of your prance and curiosity.
Our peaceful spot.
You and me buddy. Bonded in a way as no other dog has ever touched my heart. Girl was special, as was Rosie. And long ago my Smudge. Yet you, and only you knew my soul. No matter what I was going through in life, you always stood by me. Your brown eyes filling me so deeply with your love. You heard my less than charitable rants over what I thought were important at the time. You patiently listened, head cocked just so, deciphering the words you knew from our time together. Your body wags to let me know, Read the rest of this entry
“Mirror Mirror on the wall, I’m my mother after all.”
Mom helping me dress wedding day 1982
It happened just the other day when I went into the downstairs bath to get a tissue. I looked into the mirror as is my habit and I saw her. My mother staring back at me. It wasn’t the first time I’ve seen traces of her in my smile or my jowls. Yet this time her entire face was looking at me through my eyes.
At 56, I look like my memory’s version of my mother at the same age. You know, the one that shows up in the reflection during the unguarded moments when you’re thinking you really should skip the afternoon Starbucks run and get back to your writing. When my mother was 56, I was 24. Younger than my own sons now.
I was cocksure I knew what the world had in store for me Read the rest of this entry
Halloween, Halloween, this is Halloween. All hail the pumpkin king!
Come little children, it’s time to play
We D’Agostinos love Halloween! It is hands down our favorite holiday. We had such fun creating magick in our little plot at 201 Miles. T made a witch’s castle one year as a surprise for us all. And a graveyard complete with wooden headstones and campy sayings. Ghosties swung from the trees, wooden characters made by my Dad stood guard. In the side yard, our towering scarecrow sported a necklace of orange lights and creepy satin green hair. She would billow with the wind, face in a permanent twisted screaming grin. Read the rest of this entry
“My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.”
—Clarence Budington Kelland
T is the Pied Piper of our family. From the moment the boys were born, he had a vision for teaching them the joys and adventure to be found in life. Sometimes the adventure was found in our own backyard. Chubby toddlers chasing fireflies in the summer dark, trying to capture their magic. Guarding snow castles from dragons coming to capture their most beautiful queen Mommy. To jump in the center of a pile of autumn leaves, where there just might be a Daddy waiting to scoop you up in his loving arms. Read the rest of this entry
“Mommy loves the breeze on her knees. And sweet peas. I love Mommy.” –Adam, circa 1993
Little Momma 1963
I always knew I wanted to be a mom. Every Christmas Santa would bring me a new baby that I would love up every day with walks, diapers, bottles, naps, playtime, baths. I would dress my babies from my mother’s stash of our old baby clothes. Mom nurtured this passion in me—she knitted me baby blankets, brought home preemie diapers for my babies from her work; she was a nurse on the labor & delivery ward at Hepburn Hospital for ions. Many a lucky baby was born under her loving care. Mom LOVED babies, and I got this gene from her.
As I grew up, I continued to dream of my own real life family. Tops on my list in a husband was a man who valued children. One who would eagerly love the joys of raising great people from the first breath. Who would show them how to live, love and have fun. T is the best Dad ever! Not just from my seat, but from the ones who matter most—the Boinkers.
When I found out I was pregnant with twins, I was ecstatic. I read Read the rest of this entry
Happy Birthday Baby Girl!
I love this photo that speaks the promise of a life of joy ahead.
I suspect the photographer was my dad Henry because he was our family historian. See how we are smiling so brightly? Henry captured a moment that forever portrays the love between my mom (Joyce) and me.
Tomorrow I will be 54 years old–a half century since this photo was taken on my 4th birthday. Pop had the foresight to label 1962 on the front of the photo (faint handwriting in his dear, scraggly script).
I study this photo just about every day because I keep it on my dressing table. Whose house was this? What was in the box? Read the rest of this entry