Cabin Fever

Day two of being stuck inside on our own… we made the best of it.

A Snow Day

Today we woke up to our first storm of 2019. Snow came for the first time and your dad left on a trip for the first time since you were born — giving us a lot to think about. The day was a little adventurous but mostly it was a lot less warm. 

I took you outside and set you down and you got real quiet like the snow. You smiled a little but only at first. Then we watched everything be still. Then you looked so serious about it, I had to tell you it wouldn’t stay that way. 

Snow melts, and he’ll be back. 

That time it started snowing during Kyle's Birthday Party!

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Grandpa Jim's Service

“I want to be like my Dad.” -Mike Dunn

Wally & Wes Wear Stripes

<3 These guys.

To My Bride Become Mother

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If there's a chance you'll forget

don't take it.

Slice clean through an orange

mull:

The veined lines are never straight

but nevertheless delightful.

To be perfect

is not to be precise

but to give delight.

You are flawless today;

Every day.

Take two onions and compare:

full of water, 

and increasingly inner 

sanctums.

Never two alike.

To be perfect

is an absolute state

of infinite degrees.

No matter how you change,

you are always the choicest variety 

of my happiness.

Huddle against the hurtling chill

the freezer breeze brings its own kind

of charm,

candles in the night

early dark and slower Dawn

Christmas, cinnamon, steam

and all the hope we need to carry on.

Little Wallybug

When I was little my mom called me and my siblings “wallerbugs” when we couldn’t sit still and would move all over the place on her lap. These days, I’m starting to think that’s a great little name for one of my favorite nephews, since every time he sees Wesley, he wallers all over him with affection and cuddles.

As far as I can tell.

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Listen: his infant laughter is brighter than the Summer,

even though the nights have shortened.

Someday he will speak his first word

(as far as we can tell).

As far as we can tell,

he already has.

I do not know what he knows:

I have no idea how much territory his mind has explored.

I do not know what he knows:

he has already covered ground beyond my borders,

frontiers I have not.

I have not

accepted the fact that my inability to comprehend his gaze

is a remark on his comprehension.

To become like a child:

every day a discovery,

every blink an uncovering,

every touch assumed love in it.

To become like a child:

to break the flood of our disenchantment

on the rock of clean reality

(untarnished innocence).

All was meant to remain in a realm we all revoked.

To be a parent:

to watch this come, to watch it go,

to witness a clearing of the smoke

or a smoking of the clear.

His eyes will hold envy before he ever sees it.

His heart will hurt and be hurt

before he ever knows what hit him.

To be a parent:

Front row to this Autumn Reenactment, Fall

Again, renovated wrecking ball,

nothing new under sun or cloudy skies.

I will wait until he is old enough to crawl

out from under the rubble.

He will have his eyes opened,

his youth undisguised,

then - if all goes well

if I have something to say,

as far as I can tell -

he will open his own eyes.

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Strangers in the Night

I can already feel it slipping away. 

Soon I won’t remember what it was like, not knowing you. 

Every day I can see my opinion of you forming into something more solid, more opaque. I keep adding a piece to your puzzle, knowing I won’t finish it ever but still seeing more and more picture nonetheless. 

When you first got here I felt like a stranger had been placed on my chest. I would wake up in the middle of the night to feed you and stare down with so many questions. You were not intuitive to me. I think I was given a baby that smiled so early because I needed a baby that knew me, so I could learn to know him. 

I was thrown off by you. I wobbled. I could not find my center as I distractedly watched you orbit around me. 

You found your rhythm before I found mine. You led the dance.  

Today I drove by the place where we saw your first ultrasound photo and I laughed, looking back at you in the back seat. Here you are! So much of you has already bloomed into personality. I lost my breath a little back then. I stared at the stranger in the photo and felt uneasy that someone I didn’t know would change me so much.

And now that feeling is almost gone. I always remember your face now. When you first got here I would sometimes get excited to see you after sleeping because I couldn’t remember what you looked like exactly. I know the sound of your laugh. You are now a more uniquely-only-you kind of strange and less could-be-anyone stranger each day. 

I’m guessing someday I won’t be able to recall not knowing you. I may even think I’ve cornered the market on who “Wesley” is.  I want to remember that you made me “mom”, but I did not make you, Son. 

 I want to remember once the illusion of time+proximity=intimacy sets in, that we were total strangers once, until we weren’t. Until one day we woke up friends.  

“It turned out so right

For strangers in the night”