Category Archives: Nate

Holiday Road

And so goodbye to 2006.

Come back with me for a moment, twenty years ago. I’m in high school, busy having my heart broken for the first time. I know there’s nothing unique about that. Everyone should have their heart broken a few times. I learned a lot from it.

Fourteen years ago. I’m in college, and my heart is broken again. It isn’t the second time, nor even the last time, but it is without question the worst time. I’m devastated. Ever since then, Christmas has brought back painful memories.

That winter, I spent a long time trying not to think at all. But after a while, in spite of everything, my brain gradually came back online. And a strange thought occurred to me. That was the worst, I thought. The worst. The worst? Yes. Hm.

What are the odds, I thought. What are the odds that it could ever be that bad again?

I hear you laugh.

The next thirteen years… it was life, is all. Some very good, some very bad. But sure enough, no matter what happened, nothing even came close to being that bad. Deep down, I knew I was lucky, to have experienced The Worst so young, and to have survived.

Well, you already know the punchline. “How do you make God laugh? Tell him your plans.” Today, I can see so clearly how young and stupid innocent I was at 21. I’m even old enough now to know that I’m still young, even if I can’t truly appreciate how young.

Lately, I’ve been haunted by this Douglas Adams quote:

the sort of calmness that comes over people when they realize that however bad things may seem to be, there is absolutely no reason why they shouldn’t simply get worse and worse

…which is approximately where I am at the moment. Calmly I read the news from Washington and the Middle East. Calmly I experience 70-degree temperatures in January; I admire the inflatable snowmen, and think of the glaciers that are already gone, and the ones that will soon be gone. Calmly I drive in the first snowstorm of the year, watching cars slide slowly into each other and crumple up against trees. Calmly I remember that Sarah’s cancer is hereditary, and think of Nathaniel.

I try to remind myself that what I am thinking and feeling now will, like as not, seem completely ridiculous to my 50-year-old self, should it be the will of Allah that I live so long. I try to remind myself to stop second-guessing the universe. But I can’t help feeling just the opposite of what I felt in college:

We were so lucky, Sarah and I. We found such perfect happiness together. What are the odds that it could ever be that good again?

Tradition

We bought our Christmas tree last Thursday. Nate picked it out, and my sister helped me get the lights on it. Then on Friday, Amadis came over after work and we put some ornaments on it.

When I opened the box containing Sarah’s stocking, I broke down and sobbed. Nate asked, “What is it?” and I think I managed to tell him.

I tried to keep his hands off the fragile ornaments, but I misjudged one. Santa riding a goose; it was one of Sarah’s favorites. I thought it was tougher than it turned out to be. Of course Nate dropped it, and it shattered. He was shocked; he was so sorry. I told him it was my fault, and he shouldn’t feel bad, and I gave him a big hug. And I was sort of surprised to realize I didn’t feel anything. I guess after a while, you reach a point where it just doesn’t get any worse.

And you know, they were all her favorites.

They keep things loose, they keep things light

On our way to day care this morning, the radio started playing Dancing in the Moonlight by King Harvest. Nate was immediately hooked and started playing along on his guitar. But then he heard the chorus: “Everybody was dancin’ in the moonlight.” He asked, “Dad? Why weren’t they sleeping?”

He had another good one Saturday night. My dad and I were trying to explain negative numbers to him. When I tried to illustrate it by having three M&Ms and taking away five, he held up his hand and said, “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

They’re meaningless and all that’s true

Scene: Nate’s bedroom, 9 PM. The lights are off. A thumping noise is coming from the bed.

We hear footsteps from outside the door.

The thumping stops.

Silence.

Nate (in a very small voice): Dad?

The door opens and Dad enters.

Dad: What is it, my son?

Nate holds up Muffy, a small plush dog.

Nate: Muffy is getting wet.

Dad: I see. How is Muffy getting wet?

Nate: I am spitting on her.

Dad: I see. Um. What do you think we should do about this?

Nate: I think I need a different animal.

Dad (slowly): Interesting. OK, let me put Muffy in the closet for you. Which animal would you like?

Nate: Um…

Dad: One…

Nate: Um…

Dad: Two…

Nate: I want Giraffe.

Dad: OK, here is Giraffe. Sleep tight. And Nate?

Nate: Yes?

Dad: Please try not to spit on Giraffe.

Nate: Why?

Dad: Because it’s not very nice.

Nate: OK. Good night.

The Water Is Wide

My travel agent

Sarah loved to travel. She took me all over the world. When she got laid off from Peregrine, she talked about going to school to become a travel agent. She used to set up fantasy trips on Travelocity, just for fun. And it might just be that she is still arranging things for us.

Tish and Francis spend a week in Hilton Head every August with Aunt Marylou and Uncle Jim (Tish’s sister and brother-in-law). Somehow it was decided that my mom would trade in her timeshare in Kaua‘i, so we could all get together in Hilton Head. She immediately found a unit in the same building, for the same week. The owner was moving to Kaua‘i, and was eager to swap. It was almost too easy. Coincidence? It just seems… unlikely.

My sister, Veronica, was there as well. Nate doesn’t get to see his Nonna or his Auntie VeeVee very often, so he was thrilled.

We walked to the beach a couple of times, but it takes Nate a while to warm up to an unfamiliar situation. So he would cling to me until everyone was ready to leave, and then announce that he wanted to go wading, or build a sandcastle, or whatever it was I’d been exhorting him to do for the last hour.

In an effort to escape the suffocating heat and humidity, we discovered a small children’s museum right around the corner from our resort. They had a real airplane cockpit, complete with pilot’s hats, and a scale model of a pirate ship. You can imagine the screams when it was time to leave.

South Carolina in August, well… I don’t know if we need to go back any time soon, but we had a great time in spite of the weather.

This is your Captain speaking.

Come Sail Away

Sarah’s parents have an eleven-meter sailboat, Deliverance. (Sarah’s dad is an obstetrician.) Sarah grew up on the water, and she absolutely loved sailing. It was central to her life. I learned to love it too, except for the fact that I always get sick. I think it’s the one thing she would have changed about me.

Sarah was stuck with me, but Nate was her second chance. Watching him discover the boat was one of her greatest joys. She was determined that he would be a water baby, just as she had been.

So when Tish and Francis invited us to go for a day sail in July, it was bittersweet. This would be my first time on board without Sarah. I knew it would be sad for me, but I also knew that Nate would love it. More, I knew that sailing and exploring the islands would be one of the best ways for him to learn who Sarah really was. So, for the record, even though I always get sick, I am determined to accept every invitation to go sailing from now on. I just hope next summer is less rainy.

We brought Jennifer’s family along. Jennifer and her parents, Beth and Paul, are very good friends of ours. Nate sleeps at their house at least once a week so I can have some down time, and I am quite unable to express how grateful I am to have them in my life.

Paul documented our lovely day sail by taking approximately two hojillion pictures. Unfortunately, a thick fog came in before we made it all the way to Cuttyhunk, so we had to turn around and head back. And Nate was too excited to nap on the boat; by the end of the day, he was completely fried. So I tied him to a chair, and we enjoyed dinner at the yacht club.

It was a good day.

Smile, and maybe tomorrow

Why didn’t I think of that?

The other night at dinner, out of nowhere, Nate said to me, “We need someone to stay with us. Our family is too small.”

After I finished choking on my pizza, I said, “I know, buddy. It’s just you and me since mama died. I miss her a lot.”

He said, “Yeah… I miss her too. …Can we get a new one?”

“…Oh, honey. Maybe someday.”

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Topsfield Fair

We had a blast at the Topsfield Fair last night. I took Nate to work with me (hooray backup day care!) and we left at 4:00 in an attempt to beat the rush hour traffic. I’ll never go to the Fair on a weekend again. We just cruised right up to the main entrance and parked in the main lot: unheard of!

Thanks to Amadis for coming out to play with us. She kept an eye on Nate so I could use the bathroom by myself, another rare treat.

It was a whirlwind tour, as dictated by the attention span (and bedtime) of a three-year-old boy. But we hit all the highlights: horses, alpacas, sheep, goats, cows, pigs, rabbits, the giant pumpkin, Kiddieland rides, hot dogs, model trains, and apple cider doughnuts. The only things I missed were the poultry barn and the “as seen on TV” building. I could have used another bottle of that windshield stuff.

It’s been years since I’ve been to the Fair. Somehow the giant pumpkin and the “have your picture taken with a rabbit on your lap $5” booth had gotten mixed up in my mind. I was both disappointed and relieved to discover that there was no “have your picture taken sitting on the lap of a giant rabbit $5” booth. I’m not sure a 1,300-pound rabbit would be a good idea.

Are you experienced?

Nate has been fascinated by guitars and guitar players since he was an infant. Sarah bought him a ukelele and he carries it everywhere. For a while, he wouldn’t let us read him a book unless there was a guitar in it. Naturally, his favorite day of the week is Wednesday, when Mr. Gerry comes to day care and plays his guitar.

I was reading Entertainment Weekly last night when Nate peeked over my shoulder and asked, “Who’s that?” I responded that it was Jimi Hendrix, arguably the greatest guitar player of all time.

Nate shook his head and said, “No… Mr. Gerry is.”