The snow, my children, and all the years after

At least 4 inches of snow fell last night

It covered the diminished remnants of the last snow with a fresh layer of

“ oh Christ … we have dig ourselves out again ..”

I am not a total misanthrope - I can see the stark beauty of the surrounding woods,

Trees draped in their widow’s shawls, bent slightly towards each other. The somehow sharp , yet muted light ; the sky revealing no sun, and the near silence..

When my children were small, I HAD to see the magic in a snowy day.

I owed it to them.

Money was tight, options seemed few , and the stress of that time, made it hard to completely surrender to the gift of a winter day . Regardless of how I felt .

It was their childhood, happening now, in real time.

It was time to build a snowman. Drag a sled up and down some crowded hill in town.

Thankfully, we lived on a slope of our own , and I was able to devise a relatively safe run for you and your brother, and god knows, you guys were game .

Besides, Max wanted to do anything his big sister, Laila, was doing.

Laila was fun. Laila had lots of weird ,made up games you could play, usually with her dressing you up in some outlandish garb, or putting you in the rickety, child’s-toy baby stroller, to whip you up and down the hallway at precipitous speeds, with you laughing joyously, and your mother and I wincing & looking at each other, with that,“ should we intervene…? “ look on our faces.

I cant remember many times where we had to step in, but there were occasions where the play seemed to be gaining momentum towards serious injury, and we just divided you guys for a little while.

Shoveling the walk alongside the north side of the house, I remembered the sleigh run I made for you guys, that ran parallel to the side walk there. It really was quite steep, but I always positioned myself about halfway down, to slow your descent. There was small tree that Laila called the Bus stop. I think of it as her way , I suppose , of working my stopping them , into the ongoing narration Laila gave all their little adventures.

Watching you two play together, like real brothers and sisters are supposed to, regardless of parental struggles, custody battles, career uncertainties , crushing disappointments and fear, I still felt the holy gift of parenthood , of childhood, and my eternal responsibility to be faithful to these little humans protection, survival , and abundance. As I drew breath, they would have my love and advocacy in this world that devours the weak ,the Ill-prepared , the lost, with zero regard for fairness, kindness, or love. Some nights, though, I looked at you as you slept and thought, “ oh my God… these kids are dependent on ME ….twice divorced me….I have to step up and be someone that I have NO training in, but stumbled into being, anyway.

Its said that theres no good parents, only good enough parents

I did a good enough job with my kids, I think, in that they’ve all grown up and moved out into the world, and they still seem to love me, and see me as some kind of resource, which I find weirdly flattering. But then again ; I WAS the guy that read the stories, calmed the nighttime fears, kept a clean pair of pants in his van, so he could leave work painting some yuppies 3 story Victorian , in order attend your midday school performances, and not possibly embarrass you ( apparently , he never did , possibly an over reaction on his part )

This comes to me this morning, as I look out at the freshly fallen snow, through a door that still has a plastic fish ( ? I Guess..) that you and your mother painted , when you were maybe 5 years old , attached to the glass, that was supposed to emulate stained glass. All the things here in this home, I see through eyes that watched you grow.

The cupboard handle was sticky, which led us to the little scamp who’d been stealing honey - my luminous , Pooh-bear boy.

Fortunately, I remember laughing at your capture -how could one not ?

Silly old bear

I comfort myself, know that I DID notice the moments

Max’s curiosity of the world & sense of inclusivity

Laila’s fearlessness, energy & innate wisdom

And Katrin’s impossibly bright, bubbly sweetness, and sentimentality ; unusual for one so young

Today, would’ve been a Snow Day - Maybe no school tomorrow ?

Can we go sledding ? Hot chocolate at the Bear Mountain Rink ?

No, just shoveling out, so I can get to my new job tomorrow.

Dad still has to work, with retirement still some years away.

I AM tired, but it’s a different kind of tired than Ive known before.

I was a parent, finding things for kids to do in the snow for years, but from that job, I am long retired. I know I couldnt keep up the pace required to keep children busy and happy and safe anymore. Sometimes, I feel a terrible longing, that cannot be fulfilled-

A longing to reclaim the days of distraction, resentment and fear, and just utterly lose myself to the brilliant white perfection of a snow day

With children asking for me to play with them

To take them into the world , and show them all the wonderful possibilities, with hot chocolate, stories, bus stops and art projects,

I ask the universe to forgive my overwhelmed confusions and fear- I know, I know-

You gave me something rare and beautiful, & I just worried that I wasn’t enough -

But I tried to remember , when I was in the thick of it, how short our time would be together, and give them all I had left, but the wolf seemed to never leave my door, and there is time I squandered.

I realize as I write this, that Im STILL operating from a foxhole mentality -

Im hunkered down with shame, long after the war is over-

I can look at the snow , and be reminded how un-believably lucky I am to be your dad, and take it from there. I know that your mother(s) and I loved you into the good people that you are, and your lives seem to be brimming with grace and good fortune.

This helps me remember to stay with the bright, shining memory of your childhood-

Forgive me for forgetting, sometimes.

Come by, whenever you can, ok ? There’s some hot chocolate in it for you