Today the page turns to 48.

The year that was now behind.

The open-heart surgery;

the subpoena;

the testimony that had nothing and everything to do with our family;

the biopsy that went my way, the reminder that bodies keep the score of generations past,

and then the teetering on the edge of balance only to discover a boot would now be my friend, pain instead of solace found in the run.

An angry proclamation screamed to the man upstairs, “Hasn’t there been enough to endure?”.

Instantly reminded that there is no giant scorecard. No victory check mark to equal out those in the defeat column.

And well if there was I would surely find all of the goodness, all of the love I have received far outweighs the hard.

Oh Lord how lovely this life!

This farm,

this family,

these friends

and this body

all of which allow me to follow the call.

While year 48 would love more happy than hard, I do believe I have been given the most beautiful world in which to exist.

Raising a glass to 365 more chances to live in joy.

And I was young.

I didn’t know how to be a mom.

So, you slept and I snuck into your room.

I gathered your sleeping body into my arms and brought you to our porch.

In those chairs we rocked and watched the fireflies light up the night.

The years never die.

Now, that love is carried to another generation.

I awake their little bodies, whispering in the ears the promise of bugs lighting up the night.

The promise of magic.

How is it that beautiful moments can so easily repeat?

I am grateful that this madness has spun round and round.

I don’t know what the future holds. I have given up any semblance of control.

But here in this night, I find courage in the long, long road.

I know we will live forever under this sky,