I See him There, in the Birds…

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So I see my dad in the birds, especially in the hawks…for whatever reason I believe they are part of our collective story.  From the time they swam in my pool right before he died…and looking at the pictures was one of the last things we did together…to the ones soaring intermittently overhead…to the occasional times when one has swooped toward the windshield, gliding up and over, as if it dropped in to say hi.

That’s how I take it, and that’s all that matters.  He was all about nature, and I indulged him his bird talk, maybe because I actually enjoyed it.  It’s different now that he’s gone (what isn’t?), but I find comfort in the birds…as if he’s someone still managing to be here, with me.

This weekend we did our almost-annual trip to Ogunquit, our first without dad…in our favorite little shop I saw this small stone bird, which I bought as a reminder of him and all of our good times and if all that he was and is to me.

Before our walk along the Marginal Way to Perkins Cove, we put all our food in the car lest the seagulls be tempted…and returned to our beach site a few hours later to find that the seagulls had gotten into our garbage, and our other bags…so those of us who had undergarments in their beach bags (not me) were greeted by bras on beach chairs.  When we were driving home and a hawk swooped the windshield, we were sure that my dad had ordered the seagull attack, and that he was close by, laughing.

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I Sing A Song of Sisters

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Today is National Sibling Day.  Nothing expresses the beauty of the sibling relationship like this article by Frank Bruni.  He’s one of the most brilliant minds I know, thus why I self-report as Swoon-y For Bruno.

If you have a sibling our are remotely interested in why I am such a fan, read the article.

All I can add is a public expression of gratitude for my sisters, one 14 months older, the other 4 years younger.  They keep my ship righted and my circle of life in perspective.  They love name unconditionally and only applied conditions when I needed them.  It was either conditional love or an intervention, I suppose.

Either way, it’s helped make me who I am today, and it has defined “family” for me in the most meaningful and loving way possible.

MC Honor Run: Update

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I just posted about this. The next day, we were talking about it during our Mother’s Day Brunch. We discussed the amazing young woman in particular honored by this year’s race (Capt. Jennifer Harris) and the fact that her father was there and spoke briefly before the race began. My sister wondered whether we found the race sad and said she thought she would…her 14 year old son (and my nephew, who also is my running pal for this race) said, without missing a beat, “Yeah, but that’s why you have to run, mom. It’s important.”

I was and still am so proud to have shared a very special race with a very special young man.

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