A while ago I had to have a cyst removed on the back of my head. Besides me being fairly dramatic about making the phone call to schedule the procedure, the whole thing was not a big deal and the marble size bump was removed and my head stitched up with little fanfare. My long hair covered the wound and all was well. The doctor said I would have a small divot for a bit and I made the mistake of telling my kids. They were fascinated. Not by the procedure or my well-being of course, but that I could be walking around town with a "hole in my head" and, mostly, that no one knew.

When they left Connecticut in a car packed to the brim with the rest of what they owned, it was raining. It was raining in Tennessee when they slept under trees. It was lightning in Arkansas when they slept by the lake. It was finally sunny in Oklahoma, and then poured in New Mexico when at last they turned right and headed north instead of west. And then it was straight north for hundreds of miles and backtrack a little east until they almost hit the cold northern waters of Superior. They went over the bridge, through the town, beyond the fields and took a right on Red Pine and drove up our driveway- then they stopped. And they got out. And they are here.

Last night we received a dusting of snow. I woke up in the middle of the night and could see the giant pine trees being iced gently with white.  My 4 year old wandered bare foot into the kitchen at 6:30 a.m. this morning and he looked wide eyed out at the snow. “Mom” he said in total seriousness. “I think I have to go outside right now.” I told him to do what he needed to do.  Because if you ever feel as if you need to be out in creation right now — this second — you should be. So he put on his shoes and put his hands in his pockets and walked around our yard. Touching the snow with his bare hand. Kicking it with his sneakered feet. He gazed at the cornfield and looked for deer. He was completely content in the now. It wasn’t until his ears were icy and his cheeks were red that he came up towards the garage.

Joey is going to kindergarten tomorrow. He’s pretty pumped. For Joey “pretty pumped” means putting his thumbs in his jeans pocket and rocking forward on the balls of feet saying real calmly, “Yeah, I think I’m excited, Mom. Yeah.”