Spring.

It has been a very very long time since I sat down to write anything. It’s been a hectic time for us —good exciting stuff like travel, buying a house and renovating it, beloved baseball season beginning. (Whitney is trying softball and it is heartbreakingly hilarious; having been raised on a baseball field she knows just what to do.) The boys are currently on fabulous trips-Peter is in Hell’s Canyon hiking and researching the fictitious historic novel his class is writing, while Luke is in the City of Rocks (in southern Nevada) climbing and camping and studying desert ecology. That, and spring is springing and it’s breath-takingly gorgeous to watch.

Some tough things have come about too- silly small ones-and heartbreakingly unfair big ones have happened around us; it feels as though the “sabbatical” element of being here is over. The fact that we have been able to enjoy extra time as a family, scale back some of the less-needed commitments, be more intentional with our time and slightly more care-free has been a gift and a luxury. It wasn’t going to last forever though; couldn’t. Life snuck back in—there are parts you can’t control. Diagnoses come back, bombs go off, sick friends get sicker; realities and responsibilities loom closeby. Of course.  We are sandwiched between children with driving demands and aging parents with different needs. (And yet the same… in the same 24 hours my 78 year-old mother and my 8 year-old daughter both hollered “You are NOT IN CHARGE OF ME!”)

We fear for our kids living in a world of explosive danger (as I write this an email just came out that more home grown bombs were found around Sun Valley today… there is NO safe place!) Having five mountain ranges and a trout-rich stream at your doorstep doesn’t protect you from strife, it just provides a beautiful escape from it when you need it, which has been recently.

Exercise does too. Because I now live amongst the uber-athletetic, I have take on the delusion I may participate in a half marathon here. (Participating is different than running the whole way or claiming you’ll complete it, btw.) What I’ve found in the course of the last few weeks is that when I’m running, all worry fades away. It’s a meditation of sorts, good for my mind, good for my body (well, maybe not my knees…) So when I get the call that my mom needs open heart surgery or that local schools are in lockdown—again– or that my friend has succumbed to the disease she told me she planned to lick by the time I got back, I’ve started running. Not away from such frightening realities, but hopefully learning to run straight through them.

So we continue on. Looking forward to summer-travel, rafting trips and camps, time in Chicago and then another year in this beautiful valley we now call home. And back– at a year of wonderful experiences and memories made, and to the wonderful people who supported us along the way.

Can blog entries end with a dedication? (I’m thinking so.)

 To Nora:

Who had more spirit and humor and life in her than most of us put together.

A connector: who loved people, family, tradition.

Laugh until you cry funny. Cry until you laugh sentimental.

A breath of fresh air, forever making us smile.

Godspeed dear friend.