After spending a week in the North Woods of Wisconsin, the four of us settled in on a farm in the Northern suburbs of Chicago. Not just any farm. The farm where Dad lived from age ten on. Even though Dad is now gone (two years as of this coming Monday - hard to believe), we have kept the farm in the family. And when we visit, the kids play and I am flooded with memories. Here, the girls run around in their pajamas.
And break into an impromptu dance to impress the horses in an nearby stable. (The horses were impressed. They told me.)
The horse break-dances to impress my girls. (They were impressed. They told me.)
Just a little morning game of hide and seek. Squint hard. Can you spot Baby?
Just some post-swimming soccer and bubbles on the patio. Life is good.
The girls' first soccer ball (metallic pink, baby) alone in the grass waiting for little feet. (Please note that said ball was purchased at the local TARGET where we learned that Life After Yes is being displayed on the best-sellers shelf and was sold out at the time!)
The cluster of picnic tables where so many burgers have been scarfed over the years. Where friends and family gathered for cocktails during N's wedding and for lunch after Dad's funeral.
The house. Where a family evolved. Where Dad lived before being a dad. Where he transitioned from prep schooler to philosopher. From boy to man.
The sky. A heartbreaking blue marbled with puffs of white. A reminder to look up and think big.
A certain city girl gets down on the grass to play with her child. In so doing this city girl theorizes that the good life involves periodic grass stains and downright goofiness.
A lone flower. A bit hunched. A bit shriveled. But stunning all the same. Surrounded by fellow flowers and messes of trampled green grass. Alone and surrounded. (Like all of us.)
Have you spent time at your parents' childhood home? Have you brought your own family there? Do you agree that, like that little flower, we are all alone and surrounded in this life?