Settling In Gently

You just got the call. You just left the hospital. You just heard. The worst thing. The most impossible, unbelievable, dreadful thing. The thing that only happens in movies, or to other people. Today. You will never forget today. It is the day that cracks your world into before today and after. Nobody needs to tell you. You know this. You know it cellularly. The world is atomically remade. Like a terrible chain reaction, flicking over every nano piece of reality. A tessellation of shock. Nothing is the same as it was, just seconds ago. It could still be a mistake. Just two breaths away, it could be different. Your mind clings to this hope. Maybe they're wrong. Maybe the doctor is mistaken, the car was stolen, the dental records were mismatched. Maybe the police were at the wrong house. Maybe the detective got the lines crossed. Maybe it's a miscommunication. Any second, a call could come-- so sorry, we've got the wrong person! Everything's fine! Only min

I read a book on decorating, of all things. This was years ago, when we had just moved to Koloa, and Rosie was just a toddler. We had been living in other people's homes for years in Waimea-- an attached garage at Auntie Queen's and Uncle Jamie's on Mana Road horse ranch, and an Ohana unit at the Lindsey's, looking out over Parker ranch, and just down the road from Church Row. Our Koloa house was our first stand alone house. We bought a truck, we bought a couch! Microfiber sectionals and a car payment--like real adults. And I checked out this book from the library about home decor. Years and years later, one idea stuck with me. Your space should reflect your values. The colors, the designs, the way the space connects to itself, the way bodies can move through it-- it needs to be a true reflection of who you are and what you love. If not, it doesn't matter how chic or trendy or clean or impressive it is, you'll be miserable in it. It sounds simple. Obviou

This weekend will be the 2nd anniversary of Matt's suicide. I feel as though I should have something important to say about it all-- as though I should have some gems of wisdoms- or if not gems, at least easter eggs, or silver linings-- something to say Yes, this is terrible but this is why things are okay! A terrible thing happened and look, everything is fine, put a pretty bow on it! That would feel both true and disingenuous. We-- my and my three little girls (the youngest 2 now, her age marking the years of separation between us and her daddy alive) really are fine. At this exact moment we are watching Miyazaki films and eating chocolate bars and salty seaweed (not at the same time) while the girls snuggle their dolls and practice backbends on the couch. I have 25 tabs open on my laptop-- chapters of the fantasy novels I'm writing and esoteric research topics (How did stone age people make tattoo ink? What are the parts of a medieval wagon? Can you restart a batch of

10,000 miles in three weeks. Am I crazy? Possibly.  I just took myself and my three kids, 11, 8, and 2, on a wee bit of travel. I have thoughts about it. Early morning, groggily jetlagged, got back last night and the toddler needed pizza at 4am, unpacked just enough to find the toothbrushes, thoughts about it. This was our itinerary: One day driving to Las Vegas One day driving to Los Angelos One day (?? extended weird warp travel time) traveling to Copenhagen One week in Copenhagen One day traveling to Edinburgh Four days in Edinburgh One day traveling to Fort William via the slow train Two days in Fort William Two days on the Isle of Skye Two days in Oban, one on the Isle of Mull One day traveling to Copenhagen One day in Copenhagen One (horrifying extended nightmare) day traveling to LA One day traveling to St. George Utah And one day driving home to Utah Valley. It was a lot. It was every mode of transportation, every style of travel. Long drives, chugging steam trains, s