you were always smarter then me

We met in 6th grade English class. You're poetry was better then mine, but I was bolder then you. I won most talkative in the yearbook, the only superlative I would ever win, but you had more important things to say. 

In 7th grade we spent more time sitting in the hall kicked out of math class then we did learning pre algebra. Something that caused me challenges for years to come.  But not you, math was not your weakness.

By high school we were meeting in the bathroom between classes to pass cigarettes behind stall doors. Finding meaning in the meaningless.

In 10th grade outside between classes my cuts and your burns taking turns listening to Thunderoad on my Walkman. 

And then you call years later, I'm in my junior year of college and you just had your first baby. You tell me everything. You were always so much smarter then me. 

When I see you again we are both 30, I just fresh off my first divorce and you married with 4 wonderful children. We spend an afternoon on the Bayou, the furthest place to girls from Maine could have been.

Fast forward again, I'm on marriage number two pregnant with my second baby, sitting on the sidelines while we watch your boys play baseball. We make promises to get together.

The last time I see you is your second wedding. And years pass between us even though the distance is only a few miles.  You maintain your core group of friends, stay connected to the community and I lock myself away, because, as I have said, you were always smarter then me. 

And I watch from a safe social media distance as you divorce again, watch your daughter get married, celebrate graduations and holidays. And I think I will reach out. But I dont. And now social media tells me I may have waited to long. 

So I shut my eyes tight and picture you the way you were the sunny spring day. My headphones enveloped by your curly hair. The grass sharp and warm beneath my legs. Your eyes starring into mine.  I hope you got everything you ever wanted. I hope you have more time.  And I'm sorry. For whatever it's worth. So very sorry.

May this be the year

 Each year i write a summary in our holiday card of everything we have done.  And I realize why I am always so tired.  

So may this be the year that we take the time to listen to the sound of melting icicles and not worry that they are the sound of a leaky roof.  

That we can sit in the dark and hurt, but do it together so we are not alone in our pain.

That we can learn to say, "horrible" when someone asks us how we are and have that person give a sad smile and nod.

That we can learn to say no, and yes, and feel no guilt of the consequence.

That we can put down our phones and step away from the screen and look up at the hollow blue of the winter sky, the cotton candy summer sunsets and the slowly falling colored fall leaves.

So this year the summary can look something like this:

This year we did things that brought us joy.  We spent time with people we love. We chased our dreams and let go of past hurts.  We grew as people and as a family and mark this year not by the activities completed or the bones broken but of smiles shared, and the quiet moments in between the big ones.