1. A lot has happened in the past year. Monumental things. Not so monumental things. I’ll begin with Jolie. The one who changed my world  one bright, fall morning several years ago.

    Jolie became a big sister this past year—Jolie became an amazing big sister this past year. Her little sister simply adores her. Knowing I was slightly involved in their bond takes my breath away.

    Jolie graduated kindergarten and turned six. That’s more than one hand, which is a lot when you’re six. She received her first big kid bike that will take all of the next two summers to grow into. And, like most of her endeavors, is approaching riding it with stubbornness, fear and perfectionism.  A flat church parking lot up the road is going to experience more curse words than it probably has in its entire history of being a church parking lot.

    Jolie lost her first tooth this past weekend. Reached in and pulled it out herself. She has a way of surprising me on occasion by doing something completely out of character. She’s special in this way.

    Her interest in boys and girls has drastically increased. One hot afternoon I undressed to a t-shirt and underwear. She asked if I was “going to go and kiss daddy now.” Shocked, I asked why she thought that. She told me that’s what boys and girls do on television-kiss in their underwear. As talkative as I am, I stood speechless. Jolie is the only one capable of doing this to me. I’m certain her sister will trump her.

    Jolie experienced tragedy this year. Her thoughts are indefinitely becoming more complex. A man was pushed off a bridge less than a mile from our house. I never read the entire story, but saw several TV anchors and photographers crowding my street early one morning a few weeks ago. That day and early into the next morning  small boats with large lights circled the area underneath the spot on the bridge where the man, who was trying to push his broken down car, was hit by a van. Hit so hard, in fact, that the impact threw him out of his shoes and into the brown river below. Yellow caution tape whips back and forth in the wind now, forcing me to remember the man who ran out of gas on the bridge. I catch myself holding my breath when I pass the spot. Jolie asks lots of questions about that man who was hit by the van and fell into the Ohio river. “Did they find him, mom? The man that fell into the river,did they find him?” And then after they found him, “Where did the man fall? He died. I heard it on the news.” (She watches the news). I can’t explain how her inquiries make me feel entirely, but I know it marks change. Change in her. A small piece of her childhood being chipped away, broken forever.

    A lot of things have happened this year. Some worth mentioning. Others more like a lazy Sunday. And Jolie keeps growing.

About me

{instances from married life, child rearing
and old-home renovations}