Winter Letter

Dear Friends,

I AM HUSTLING TO WRITE THIS LETTER BEFORE THE CLOCK TURNS 8:00 because I am afraid if I forget the desire to write you, then it will pass as quickly as the week begins.

After a hectic week, I closed the door and watched the last guest drive away. I walked around the house--picking up blankets, pillows, water bottles, batman pencils...laughing at the mountain of beer and wine bottles that stacked up in the utility room showing...ah, it was a good weekend.

For those of you that are curious, we did have another meaning talk with the child. She sat by the fire table and sobbed real tears. Not the kind of tears that are mad or hateful...these tears were of deep sorrow.

She told me of her soccer game last week. How she needed a ride home but didn't have the courage to ask another parent, so she road the school bus home alone, just the bus driver and her. I was knee-deep in planning a cut-and-paste exercise, cleaning my bookshelves, and making sure the bagels were ordered. I realized that a whole week of incredible emotions had passed by without me...I was sad.

I cried along with Claire, as she has lived this last week alone in misery, in embarrassment, in silence. I promised her that her parents will be at her soccer games this week. Walking into my game will be difficult, she said, because all the parents are talking. Once again, I promised that we will be there...to make sure she doesn't ride home alone in the bus again.

But you both are busy with work, she said. One of us will be there, Dan said. We will be there. There was no more to say.

We did impose the punishment. Grounded for two more weeks (no junior girls dance with Luis? no.)...You can have your cell phone next week (Next week? Yes, seven more days)...and you are on probation until the end of the school year...10:30 curfew and no sleep overs (the end of the school year? Yes, May 2008).

I can't get it out of my head. We will be at your soccer game, honey. We will be there.

In the middle of the our Sunday morning--as we were circled around talking about quickies and documents and printing and committees--my eldest slipped out in her car and started a journey to Oklahoma. She just got up and went to see her Granny. I reminded Dan that this is the child that would go kicking and screaming to her grandparents in the old days...now she gets up and goes on her own. It felt good to recognize this change.

But enough. It has been a beautiful weekend, especially sitting in the cool January evening being warmed by the fire and a glass of wine. I plan on carrying this mood through the end of the month.

Soon,
Laura