I hold his hand like I would hold my boyfriends hand. He is 3-4 inches taller than me, and with me clocking in at 5’1, this is average for his age. We look like a couger couple, with me in my early thirties and he knocking on the door of fourteen. We weave in and out of the crowded metro stations, the sidewalks, the ballpark, the Smithsonian. He’s never been in a huge city before, and he is overwhelmed and I’m getting frustrated with trying to keep him, my mother and my sister in my line of vision and make sure no one gets on the wrong train.

In the chaos, he lunges for my hand and I half-walk, half-drag, him out of the crowd. He doesn’t let go until we’re in my apartment. He’s thirteen, going into 8th grade next year, and right on that precipice where each time I see him (which is few and far between) I expect his voice to have changed. I expect him to be too cool for Aunt Stephie, but he isn’t. His feet are enormous but he still curls his long legs on my lap to be scratched. In a year, everything will be different. The next few years are going to see him shoot up another six inches at least, his long lean body jumping running climbing leaping so much now will likely be calmed. He’ll be charming the girls and playing basketball and trying his first beer and probably driving his truck way too fast.

But this past weekend, I got to have my little boy for maybe the last time. I got to cuddle with him a little, rub sunscreen on his face, watch a cartoon movie. I know it is fleeting and I’m so glad I take the extra minute to run my hand across his back, kiss the top of his head. It’s gone so fast and yet not, since he was a baby I held at the age of seventeen and that seems several lifetimes ago to me.

I splurged and got us all behind-the-dugout seats for the baseball game this weekend. He’s a big Braves fan, and they were playing the Nationals here and he was in heaven. We stayed for the entire game, ate peanuts and ballpark fries and it was a great day for baseball. He leaped up and hugged me in the restaurant when I told him where our seats were and that alone was worth every penny.

He’s the best boy. I sure do love him.

Picture

Me, today. Taken for my mother, who requested to see my face :)

Words

Spinning and twisting and turning.

My life carries on - everything is going well. This seems like a miracle in an of itself: I am fine. I am softening around the edges; I can feel myself letting things go that I once held so important. I am walking, still in pain with many steps from the broken ankle. This weekend marks 7 months since the break itself.

Let's let that sink in. Only seven months...seems like a thousand years ago. The scars haven't faded much though. No way can I wear anything less than socks and tennis shoes this summer, but I really don't care since that's what I usually like to wear anyway. I am not a sandals wearing woman. I'm 31 years old, and I ain't changing. And I don't care anymore. Maybe this is part of getting older.

I've been busy as hell. Huge work projects happening, wrapping up, carrying on.

I went to Baltimore last week to give a presentation. I give alot of those these days. 4-5 years ago, I used to shake when talking on conference calls. I used to have to hide my shaking hands under the table; sometimes I'd be sick with anxiety--literally sick. Now, I just hop right up and start the powerpoint and go. I still get nervous sometimes of course, since I'm not exactly talking about mundane things and I'm terrified if anyone raises their hand for a question since I am still not exactly nuanced on all things health care, but...I've learned how to say "I don't know, but I'll look into it and get back to you if you'll give me your card later." The end.

I'm learning.

BTW, it wasn't raining in Baltimore, and since I gave the presentation to my old company that I worked for in Kentucky, everything was decidedly NOT the same.

But in a good way.

No.

In a great way.

This Saturday, I am going HOME. Home, home for the first time since Christmas! I can't wait to cuddle up with my nieces and nephews, and force the ones taller than me to sit in my lap so I can kiss their cheeks. As hard as I've been working lately and relatively enjoying most of it...I need a break, desperately. I haven't had a day off since I started the job, except for one when I ended up working from home much of the day anyway.

I suppose that's not much to report, afterall. But the world is still spinning here in our nation's captiol, and I am spinning right along with it.
Keep thinking good thoughts about a FULL ankle recovery by the end of the summer.

XO

Words to Come

For now, a few glimpses of my neighborhood. Two and a half years here...and I finally feel like this is home in my very bones. 

Words to come tomorrow....so much to report.

Scenes from an Urban Easter

My nephews (oh, and my sister and her husband) were here for six days. We did...ALOT. They were hyper, hungry, and hilarious.

We went to the Washington National Cathedral for easter sunday, came home and hunted eggs on my sidewalk (above) and then they headed out. My apartment is much quieter and less messy, but I loved having them here.

Side note: Four year old Luka somehow managed to get a sip of communion wine at church this week. He turned to me, grinned and yelled at the top of his lungs..."Jesus's blood tastes SO GOOD!"

I wanted to sink through the floor, as our whole section started giggling and he pumped his fists in the air like a mini Jersey Shore contestant.

Tomorrow I turn 31 years old. I am more content and happier than I have been in years.  For absolutely no good reason, other than just getting more and more comfortable in my own skin.

Here's to my next thirty (one) years.

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you...

Once upon a time, I started a blog.

A few years later, I stumbled onto Mamapundit.com, thanks to our fabulous Maggie May. I quickly became interested, and followed Katie Granju's story as her son Henry fought for his life in the hospital following a drug overdose.

As a childless woman, I don't exactly fit the typical Mamapundit audience. Not being a mommy, I don't get into the mommy blogs...yet, I was drawn to Katie due to our shared beliefs, values, and eerie similarities.

Then, Henry died. Henry's Fund sprang up in his honor, and one day, I emailed Katie and her sister Betsy, who was appointed the Executive Director of Henry's Fund, and wanted to offer my help. In the course of my job, I track health legislation, specifically behavioral health issues, so I wanted to offer up anything I could do. Since I couldn't actually DO anything physically, so I thought this could be something helpful. After al, Katie was and still is fighting for justice for her son's homocide.

Fast forward a few months, and Betsy came to DC and had a beer with me.

Fast forward a year later, and well, this.

Betsy brought her kids, and one of Katie's (Henry's younger brother) up to DC for a few days to visit. My house was transformed into a kid-zone, and we had a blast.

We were eating jumbo slices of pizza in the park at night, watching the kids run hysterically burning off energy, and I told Betsy I felt like my Facebook had sprung to life. She posts pictures of her kids nearly every day, and I've now "known" the family for about a year and a half. I talk to Betsy in some capacity nearly every day. And yet, it was the first time I met the kids. They were a trip and a half -- such smart, clever, and funny kids.

We found Ghandi on a walk around my neighborhood:

I got my hair did:

We watched Justin Beiber on  my floor:



It is amazing, what the internet can do. How we have such full lives, friends, schedules...and yet, we still found each other. I still managed to find this family who is in Knoxville doing amazing things to honor their Henry, and become their friend from 600 miles away.

What a world.

Thank you, Henry.

Laugh -- now.

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