In the Morning

I’m in California this morning, little sweetheart. Sylvia and I flew in last night. We’re staying with your parents and then going down to Santa Barbara on a five day road trip that will begin tomorrow. It’s a mini version of two little ideas I’ve had for the longest time:
1) to visit some/all of the 21 California Missions and
2) to take a leisurely trip along the coastal route of Highway One, stopping along the way wherever the spirits (namely yours!) may take us.

As I’ve woken here this morning to birdsong and the gorgeous warm California air - it’s 80f here and was still in the 40’s when we left NYC - I feel incredibly grateful, my heart full, to feel close to you and home.

It was late last night when we got in. The plane was delayed three hours. Your dad left the Enclave in long term parking for us to collect and drive back. We detoured through Davis but didn’t stop because it was about 3am.

Tomorrow, we’ll visit The Angel, where I know you are not tethered but merely alight to guide and comfort me when I myself stop by.

Please be with me, as I know you often are. With all my love.

I Hear You...

Just back from a run. It's grey and a bit wet here today but far more fair than the forecast, which was quite dire, threatening heavy rain, thunderstorms and high winds. It didn't look all that bad from my window, so after coffee, I suited up and headed out. I'm not crazy about running on the weekends because everyone and their dog (literally) is usually out too but the grey skies and aforementioned promise of a tempest found the river path fairly unpopulated. It started to clear as I neared the end, coming back through the park toward the Boat Basin and you could see more folks had ventured out. As I came to a stairway leading back toward the pier, a woman with two small children was in front of me, holding the girl's hand, with her little boy dawdling a bit behind. They were taking up the entire width, so I backed off just as the little guy tumbled. The mom was scolding him lightly, as his bottle of blue Gatorade rolled further down the steps. "That wouldn't have happened," she said "if you'd listened to me. I told you to stop pouting." I stepped around them and retrieved the little guy's Gatorade, handing it back to him, his eyes wide and still teary, as the mom thanked me. "Here ya go, champ", I said. "Hang in there. It only hurts a little while". I have no idea where that came from. Ever hopeful, eh? On second thought, I know exactly where it came from. Thank you, little sweetheart.

Searching while shut-in...

So, little sweetheart, I have to tell you about something that happened on Monday. I had an accident. A kind of breathtaking and inexplicable wipeout while on my morning run along the Hudson, tripping and flying and landing hard on my head. It was very dramatic and bloody and nothing was broken or required stitches but I got pretty badly banged up and I'm all bandaged about my face. Gah! So, quite a story there and I'll get to telling you about it soon.

But just now, as I'm housebound, I set out to find something. I'd had a cursory look for it when Kris was here but I decided as I'm staying inside hiding my banged up face from the wider world, I'd have a proper rummage. 

Did I ever tell you this? 

My mom's best friend bought a pendant at the mission in Santa Barbara for me on the day I was born and gave it to her. When I was spending extended time living in NorCal after you and I met, my mom, who had been keeping it safely stowed somewhere and never even told me about it, sent it out there to me. I packed it away somewhere safely myself. But I was thinking that it's about time I wore it around my neck now along with my emergency dog tag (that has your mom and dad as contact), the key to Miller Drive your mom put on a piece of yarn for me, and the little silver pendent that my London friend made for me that says "Our Oneness Can Never Be Erased". 

I just found it. The pretty little pendent is of St Barbara herself. I wonder if you've met her yet on your travels, my little sprite...

Native Union