Four Years Have Gone By

The last time I updated this page was in spring 2003. I was reluctant to write about anything because everything seemed up in the air. 2004 was probably the worst year of my life, except that I met some really neat people to offset the tragedy. That was the year my best friends moved away, my mother died unexpectedly of a heart of attack at the age of 62, we had at least 4 category 3 or higher hurricanes blow through, and George Bush got re-elected. It is hard to top that bad year.

Life keeps moving on. I still have two lively, lovely boys who are growing up to be some of the most interesting people I have ever met. My husband continues to be the funny, caring, generous human being he has always been. Our house has been transformed under his skill and workmanship, and hopefully we'll be able to move into the new rooms he built soon.

My older son recently told me he wants to grow up to be an ornithologist (he's seven). My younger tells me he wants to be a fire fighter. I think they have chosen appropriately for who they are at this moment in time. We'll see what happens next year.

One thing I learned in the aftermath of my mother's death is that life is uncertain, and I can't afford to put off until later what really needs to be done today. That means different things on different days, but ultimately it means that I rediscovered an urgency to live. Many students ask me how I manage things -- teach, research and raise a family. Truth is, I don't know. There's no secret to it. I live day to day with the idea that I need to go to sleep feeling as though I used this day well. If it means I spent the day with kids watching Shrek III or visiting my dad and doing his laundry or dishes, well, that's what it means. If it means that I wrote three entries in the Norton instructor's manual that is overdue, then that is what it means. Sometimes it means running seven miles with my ipod blasting.

Life doesn't last. It ought to be meaningful, and it ought to be fun.

Previous pages:Split Identity;Son #1 at 2;
Motherhood;
Whiskers on Kittens
and Sunsets