This month has been one of writing (lots of it), of family time, of contentment, of the rising thrill that Jason has weeks left of his MBA... of sleepiness at 8 pm, of cozy gloomy days, of running in tights again, of post offices and chilly mornings...
I walked on the beach a few weeks ago, holding the hand of my almost 4 year old, and felt the familiar ache; this time, it wasn't to live there... it was the ache of life passing too swiftly; the inner recognition that beautiful things die and change and are always in motion.
This boy, with his sweet raspy voice and his tousled hair. He and his baby brother are the most beautiful things in my life. They are good children. I can't take any credit for it - they came out that way. Happy to be my companions all day, every day, up for anything.
His annoyingly inquisitive eyes and his sharp little ears that don't. Miss. A. Word. He told me I was his "best friend Mommy" recently, and I teared up.
He loved his Halloween; Edisto was really fun for a change, though I felt kind of sad to miss being in our sleepy neighborhood for Trick-or-Treat.
My party animal.
Jason and I joke that Henry is headed for keggers and pong and insane sports-related concussions. There's already something so reckless and wild and hilarious about his attitude towards life. He has landed himself in the doctor's a few times already with his antics and he is barely walking. My doctor chuckles after examining Henry's bumps and bruises at his last well-check, and informs me that there are just some kids who have all the broken bones... "they have something inside them that says Just Go!"... imagine my relief?
I also took Will for his first dentist appointment and I couldn't handle the cuteness.
Notice his crossed feet? He owned it. He was all chatty and comfortable with the hygienist the WHOLE time. He even piped up to the grumpy dentist when he walked in, "I'm SO eh-scited for Halloween."
One last thing I have to write down, and then I have to run - having dinner guests, and my sister for the weekend... but the other night, he told me he was scared of having a bad dream. (There have been lots of ghoulie, scary things in the air lately, you know).
Me: "You don't have to be scared of anything Will, cause you have a guardian angel. Everyone has a guardian angel."
Will: "But where is he?!"
Me: "He's right here with you, always. Jesus asked him to protect you. We all have an angel. Mine's name is Tom Vilden." *
Will: "Well what's my angel's name?"
Me: "You should ask him."
Will: "Well what is it?!"
Me: "Its whatever you think it should be."
Will pauses. Then: "Well, I think my angel's name is Mommy."
*Tom Vilden - is a long story going back to when I was 5. My charismatic mother taught us that we should pray and ask our angels to tell us their names, and we would receive the name in prayer. A few days later I informed her my angel's name was Tom Vilden - because angels want to have last names, too. The name has stuck though, and good ole Tom Vilden always comes through for me.