Category Archives: Joined at the Heart
I didn’t send any Christmas cards this year. Since today’s December 28, it doesn’t look like the box I’ve parked on my desk next to the cup of neon highlighters will be traveling your way any time soon. If I had sent them, I’d have included the snapshot above. It was taken last summer. Cherry and Coco are sitting on the ledge outside of a cave in the Pecos Wilderness east of Santa Fe, New Mexico. We’ve made the trek to the cave more than a few times. It’s a sacred place to us, so the walk is more pilgrimage than hike. I used to scream at Bacon not to lose my babies in the river that rushes into the mountain. It looks like something from The Hobbit. Now . . . well, you can see . . . my babies are young women, big enough to fend for themselves. We’re lucky. They still like to hang out with us in the woods.This has been a good year. Our girls are flourishing, and Bacon and I spend most of our time driving them places. I never think to take a picture of us in the car, but that’s where we spend the most time together. He took this photo of three of us in our backyard on Mother’s Day.
Cherry is a freshman at the high school where I used to teach. She’s on the swim team, making terrific grades, singing in the choir, and studying Oral Interpretation with my former student in a classroom I designed, but never occupied. Life is a full circle.
Coco is in the seventh grade. She’s in her fifth year of studying the violin. She’s equally comfortable with Dvorák, Vivaldi, and Taylor Swift. She’s a girl with definite opinions about who she is and what she wants. Sound like anyone you know?
We make time to be goofy—even if one of us is always weilding the camera instead of posing in front of it. I hope you had a terrific holiday, however and whatever you celebrate.
Best Wishes for 2015.
My husband never learned to put like things together or anything in the same place twice. In his preschool years, a shape-sorter toy never appeared under his family’s Christmas tree. You know, the bucket with the star-shaped, round, and triangular holes in the lid? Most toddlers are adept at dropping the appropriate hunk of plastic through the correct opening. Not Bacon. In fact, matching of any kind isn’t his forte.
Before he leaves the house everyday, my girls give him a make-over. Cherry in particular’s been know to say. “No. Just. No.” To which he replies, “What?” And Coco answers, “Change your shirt.”
That’s easy enough to handle compared to what happens when he unloads the dishwasher. No kitchen tool is ever returned to its original location. In Bacon’s world, a wire whisk is a refugee, camping out in a nebulous borderland, never to return to its true home.
When Bacon reads this, I can predict his exact response. He’ll say what he always says, “If it bothers you so much that I can’t remember where things go, I just won’t put the dishes away.” So before I go on, let me reassure him, “It won’t work. Pleading ignorance is no excuse.”
We have one utensil drawer divided with IKEA drawer dividers. The immersion blender fits on the left. Corkscrew and wine stopper in a slot. Can opener and apple corer in a slot. Ice cream scoop and small spatula in a slot. At any time, I can open the drawer and reach for exactly the tool I need without a glance. Unless . . .
Despite this innate flaw in his character, we’ve survived twenty plus years of marriage. I suppose things could be worse.