Confessions of a Daughterless Mother

Me and my As He runs ahead of me, kicking up a dusting of the few inches of fresh fallen snow. He's wearing a hand me down pair of tennis shoes.  He said he doesn't have any boots that fit, honestly I'm not sure he does and I feel a vague sense of guilt. We are walking along the rock ledges that line the river in town -- his brother and dad and I. The sun is shining, so we came hiking. He tries, no less than three times, to make a walking stick out of branches he picks up on the side of the path, all the while running, shuffling his feet in the snow creating a small white dust up under his feet, just like Pig Pen. Twice the branches he picked up were bigger than he is.  No mind, he whittled and twisted and molded the sticks as he runs ahead and then doubles back to touch us. He yells, "Momma come look at this ice! It's water seeping right from the ground through the rocks! Isn't it cool? You gotta touch it!" It looks like the blown glass we saw at...

Every time we go for a walk, Eric and I wonder how many miles our footsteps have carved out. How many times we have walked down our road, looked at the same trees and the same houses. Passed the same mailboxes and kicked the same stones. We walk a lot, passing time, getting exercise, spending time together. In college we once took off in the morning, bare footed, and walked until dusk. We came home with filthy feet and happy hearts. Our walks are our time. Solving, strategizing, dreaming. Last week, we were gifted with a walk in a soft snow fall. Big snowflakes fell so sweetly from the sky, the kind that are really hundreds of flakes stuck together, like a family. There were no cars on our little dirt road, and for once there was no wind. The flakes floated gently toward the ground their path uniquely their own. We even stuck our tongues out (well, I did) and caught a few. The prick of icy cold marking success. Lulu, our lab walked up in front of us, sniffing, mouthing and invest...

To say I always battled my weight would be a lie. In fact I don't remember even knowing what my weight was until shortly after I auditioned for Disney on Ice . I was a floundering sophomore in college and until I heard the words, "As soon as you can get your weight below 120 pounds you can come join us on tour!" I am not sure I ever stepped foot on a scale. In fact, over the next ten days as I tried to lose the weight (I needed to drop 8 pounds off my already thin frame as quickly as possible to join the company at their next city), I ventured up to the hospital floor where my momma worked to use the admissions scale at the hospital.  I didn't even own a scale. That phone call started an obsessive relationship between me and The Scale. I lost the weight for  Disney  by starving and three times a day workouts, by dehydrating myself through water pills and restriction of fluids. I plummeted down in weight - obsessing over the blinking neon numbers to the exclusio...

It's January. It's cold. It's Michigan, so it's also gray and snowy. The post-holiday blues, lack of sun and time outside (plus the new year hard reset on my diet and exercise that I neglected over the past few months) make this time of year difficult for me. I struggle to sleep, struggle to wake up, struggle to enjoy the days. Add in nearly 44 years, an aching, aging body, a heart that is wistful as the clock winds down to graduation and a spell of time where I actually have .... well, time ... and I am restless. Not the kind of restless that smacks some 40-somethings upside the head, where they become immediately aware of the passage of time and the fact that youth has passed them on the left and they leave their wives, divorce their husbands, change careers and buy a new red sports car.  Rather, the kind that finds me reflective, thoughtful. Even more so than usual. I was talking with one of my dearest and oldest friends (old as in we've been friends since ...

                                                                                                   Thanksgiving Day 2015 A few weeks ago we headed out to hunt for our perfect Christmas tree. It was sunny and warm (normally I am not a big fan of the snow ... but I find myself missing it this season) with a brisk wind. We never look for a traditional shaped tree, we like them tall and slim, with lots of shelves for ornaments to hang on. We don't like them trimmed to the "perfect" Christmas tree shape, preferring a natural chaos ... limbs sticking out here and there. The hunt usually takes several hours -- and we have been known to abandon tree farms that don't have what we want -- sometimes visiting three or four before we hit pay dirt. A...

When I first looked into your eyes, I expected fireworks. I mean, how else does it feel when you meet the soul that has made you a mother for the first time? The moment was still, and quiet. There were no fireworks, just a gentle connection as our eyes met. I searched your face for familiarity ... I had worked so hard to bring you safely into this world (you hadn't made it easy) ... I was so sure I would recognize you.  Could I see your dad's soulful brown eyes? My long lashes? Did you have your great-grandpa's dimple in your chin? I couldn't recongize you as I thought I might.  The one thing I knew was that you were uniquely you, and that I was in love with you at first glance. Eighteen years later, I still search your face. I look for the glint you had in your eyes when you had a plan for mischief. I look for the mud on your cheeks from an expedition in the woods. I look for the tears in your eyes that only I can soothe. I look to see what kind of day you had,...

View from my walk ... For my entire life my grandparent's house was a cozy, blue, wood-sided ranch nestled in a bed of pine tree needles, pachysandra and ivy, protected by the sentry pines that dropped their leaves in soft, velvety piles -- fragrant enough to make you believe it was Christmas in the heat of July. I have many memories of that house: my aunts and uncles laughing around Grandma Rachel's yellow dining room table, swimming at the neighborhood pool, learning how to make the perfect grilled cheese (making sure the butter crisped the edges) and eating made-to-order omeletes by my grandpa's hand ... reading books and sitting by fires, opening Christmas presents in their basement, watching the rainbows float from my grandma's glass paper weight collection. And buckeyes, always there were buckeyes. Today, I was walking with Luna--my two year old silver Lab--opting out of the gym and enjoying the last promises of 70 degrees and sunshine that only Octobe...