The Giving Tree

I need to get more original with my blog titles, I know.

But check this out.This is one of many trees from my childhood. It stands in my parents neighbor's back yard. This is a photo from last fall.

A silent witness, this tree stood vigil over careless youth and tumultuous teen angst. Every fall our neighborhood mob would strip our yards of their leaves and deposit them behind this tree then swing to dizzying heights and fling ourselves onto the pile. Eventually a parent would realize what we were doing and come to spoil our fun. No doubt this same tree nurtured many a generation before ours and stood long enough for my own children to swing from it's limbs. Till last Saturday.

Here is a shot from the same side as the first photo. The perspective is a little funky. My Dad is not that small.

Then on Sunday the second half came down.


Thankfully no one was hurt and there was amazingly little property damage. But we are all mourning the loss of our big friend.

The Neverending Story

I remember, roughly eighteen years ago, waking up in a panic, springing from the bed and into my firstborn baby's room. I had been asleep for six hours and I was certain the outcome would be tragic. Once inside his room I watched silently, intently for the telltale sign, the raising and lowering of his chest to indicate that he was alive and breathing. He was. Instant relief. Could it be? He had defied all the baby books and actually slept through the night at something like six weeks old. This scenario would repeat itself for a week or so before I could relax and accept that it wasn't a sign of impending doom but just the way he was.

Fast forward eighteen years.

It's graduation night and our new graduate is attending an all night party. It's sponsored by the school so I'm not worried. But. At five in the morning the dog wakes me to take him out and I am hit again by that familiar feeling from long ago. Panic. Did he make it home? Well, yes. On the way downstairs I ran into him in the kitchen. Instant relief.

Honestly, they have no clue about the roller coaster ride they take us on, these kids. And if they did they would just roll their eyes and wonder what the big deal is. I miss those carefree days. But I do love a good roller coaster ride.

Whomp.....and just like that...

...it's summer.

I know because we went to the pool today. I crammed my chubby white body into my mommy swimsuit and made the trek. Once our five year old saw the pool was open it was only a matter of time. He is quite the motivator. Thankfully the eighteen year old tagged along so he had a playmate and I was able to take my sweet time getting used to the frigid water. It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to inch myself into the deep end. Then I did five laps and beached myself to soak up the sun and humidity that has dropped on us like a wet blanket. No sense in overdoing it.

Yay for summer.