Mister Three

Today Mister Three is 3 years old.



Three years ago he tried to come out in Auntie Mickey's car.





I can't imagine life without Mister Three. He makes us laugh all the time.










Sometimes he makes us mad, it's true. But mostly we make him mad. That happens a lot, in fact.



He loves his brother like crazy.






He is a very sweet, smart, wonderful boy. Happy Birthday, Mister Three!

Grieving

What happens to love that is directed toward someone who can no longer receive it? What if that love comes back to us with the full force with which we sent it? Does it cause pain that way? Is that the pain of grieving?

We are grieving the loss of a dear, dear friend this weekend. He was a figure of generosity and caring, of deep connections and of irreverence, part of the history of who I am and of who my children are. His absence will be remarkable for a very long time.

I've Turned Into a Morning Girl

I've never been a morning person. I have always been one to hit snooze ten times, to stay under the warm covers as long as possible, to hold in a sneeze so as not to open my eyes and look for the kleenex.

But I have learned, at the late age of 39, that no one else is around in the mornings. It's really quiet. Everybody is hibernating in their snuggly beds. It's cold. And it's really quiet. Did I say quiet? Mornings are quiet. I don't get to do quiet much anymore. Quiet. Quiet and lovely. We've been having such pretty skies in the early mornings of this fall.







The oatmeal is warm, the coffee is milky, and the light is rose-lavender-periwinkle. Sometimes I can see the fishing boats coming in from the night's work.

And it's quiet. Did I mention that part?

Where Does Patience Come From?

I think it comes from moments like this.








This has been a week of short-tempers on the part of everyone, big and small. It helps to be able to have happy, relaxed moments like this one for the well of patience to refill. We're lucky to have these times, and I have to remind myself of that.