There are snowflakes drifting down right now, melting before actually touching the ground. Owen and Paul are having a guys morning---haircuts, Starbucks, grocery store, and maybe the playground (if they can handle the snowflakes). Joel and I have been to the gym---I ran, he didn't. We have also been to Starbucks. I bought six beautiful pork chops, which are brining in homemade stock at the moment. I also found a bottle of wine from a vineyard Paul and I visited on our honeymoon. I haven't had a glass of this wine for almost ten years.
Could life be more perfect?
I've been thinking of my aunt a lot recently. She is the primary caretaker of my grandmother, who is living in a care center, and not doing the greatest. My grandmother cannot escape the circuitry of her dysfunctional childhood, so when things are difficult, which is pretty much all of the time, her mind runs through the same unhappy pattern of missed opportunities and perceived slights. My aunt bears the brunt of this. My dad does what he can, but because A) He lives far away, B) He's a man, and C) He's the baby of the family, he does not get as much abuse as my aunt.
I admire her so much. Her entire life---as a teacher, a mother, a daughter---has been one of service and humility. She doesn't give at the office. She gets in the trenches. And yet, she does not let it devour her.
She has friendships that began while her boys were in diapers that last to this day. She goes on long walks. She travels to Spain. She still collects royalties from books she's published. She knits. She could give any docent a run for her money when talking about Goya or Dali.
My mom says that I share qualities with her. I can only hope that's true. And, I imagine, my parents are hoping that as well, in the event that I will someday need to give them the same loving care that they gave me, as the years pass like snowflakes drifting delicately to the ground.