Dear Boy,

I'm sorry that I fail to write back to you and your letters pile up without a response.  It's hard for me to feel too tired or ill to do much. I start to feel worthless. And then I start to feel depressed. And then I don't know if I'm not feeling up to anything because I'm physiologically not well or only psychologically unwell or both. Or I just don't know. And then I started to feel desperately helpless with the thought that I will have a baby and be bound to the house for another undetermined amount of time. A year or five?  I tell myself that I can't do it. I can't keep puttering around the house for years and years. Then I turn around and tell myself that I can do it. I've already proven that I can.   In the end I found hope in the idea that I don't have to be bound to the house for the next how many years. Maybe just one, but maybe not even. I have this thing that I want to do. I have a dream that's followed me around for a few years now. And I think it's practical.  You don't like what you do. We don't have the means to farm. The thing I want to do will eventually yield the means to farm.  In the meantime, it will be following my dream. And it will get us out of here. So why not go for it?  

And maybe that will determine where we go. If this is what we actually do. I need a few years to become a nurse which is something I never thought I'd be interested in and I think I can do that while we're still here, but then I'll need to go to a graduate school for another few years and that may cause us to move away. I hope it will. Even though I do love it here. I can love somewhere else too.

That was a long ramble. In the end, I'll just say that I can't believe we're having another baby. It still is surreal to me. What a miracle. This baby will always seem a miracle to me. Gerret will always be the best surprise of my life. Nolan will always be the child who made me a mother. And Auburn will be the child that changed me in so very many ways. But this baby, wow. What a miracle. My boobs hurt and I feel nauseous daily, but it's a miracle. 

And I love you. You are the friend of my life. I can never thank you adequately for asking me on that first date or for sticking with me after the fiasco of our second date or for being patient even while knowing I was being deceptive. Thank you for being in every moment since. Your friendship and love are everything to me. 

(Getting) Big(er) L

Dear Lady,

We're out of kindling downstairs. It's 5 in the morning and I'm working on getting the fire going. I didn't quite feel up to going outside for more kindling, so I'm trying to get the fire going using a lot of newspaper. It's helped diminish what has been, all winter, a rather over-large stockpile of newspapers, though I'm left unconvinced that it will be enough to keep a fire going. Already the paper has burned away and I'm left with some admirable, but struggling, flames.
Ah well, I suppose you'll see how it went in an hour or so.

I admire you for the early mornings, you know. You've said it before, and it's true—no one else would probably do (or could probably do) what you're doing on your sister's behalf. I hope you truly recognize that.
I know that such close association with your family has not quite measured up to what you'd hoped it would be when we moved back. I'm sorry about that. Who could have foreseen such a drastic change in everything from when you were a child? But, difficult as it's been, your family has been blessed in so many ways by your decision to come back. Without you it's unclear how Elise would be fairing in seminary at all. Or what your mom would have done when your dad became sick. Or whether or not your grandpa Borden would have had much of a chance to meet Nolan and Gerret.
Things are tough right now, but I am always in awe of how you handle them and how you've blessed the lives of those you care most about. Which isn't to say we shouldn't move away :)
And where should we move to? Local? Far away? Is it Alaska time yet?
I think that the biggest question regards employ. How do we want to proceed? I have such a beautiful idea for our family farm, but it's definitely a long term goal. One requiring a lot of up front investment—which we definitely don't have. I know you don't want to simply wait at home until we save up enough money to buy a farm, nor do I want to continue in nominal employ until then. So what should we do? Salmon fishers in Alaska? Reverse call the midwife roles where you're the doctor and I'm the receptionist? A small-scale family circus? Any ideas?

Anyway, I'm just rambling and musing by myself in the dark of morning as I'm hoping the fire will catch. I thought I'd might just as rather be sharing my wandering thoughts with you.
I love you.
Sorry you'll be waking up tired in a short little while. At least tomorrow's Saturday and you can sleep in.
I'll see you at 6:10!

.a Boy

Dear Lady,

Life is amazing isn't it?
And I don't mean this in any sort of global, transcendent sense. Not like, "Isn't the entire experience of life amazing?" Not to say that life isn't amazing in this sense, but isn't simply the very fact of life, of sentiency, incredible? Whether you did anything or not, isn't it amazing enough just to be alive?
Don't dwell on the idea that some are born in terrible circumstances. Don't dwell on the idea that some are born with more or less. Don't dwell on the fact that sometimes life, to some, seems more burdensome than valuable. I surely respect such feelings and experiences and do not seek to retract from them in the smallest.
But imagine life apart from such things. Imagine life independent of all else. Consider that anything IS, rather than isn't. Just the fact that when there could be blackness there is, instead, an explosion of color.
I mean how many poets and novelists have painted life as something that was only worthwhile if grabbed by the horns and conquered? That life lived anywhere shy of grandness was life wasted. But isn't a life an incredible thing regardless of how it is lived? Isn't it enough to simply be, rather than not be?
Is life a marvel only if "lived to its fullest"? Is there some measure that would determine for us when a life is and isn't a wonder? And wouldn't humans be the sole qualifiers? And only if meeting the determined criteria?
Isn't it so much simpler and appealing to agree that life comes labeled as "AMAZING!", regardless the packaging?
That's what I thought the other day as I drove home and noticed a fawn on a front porch.
There was nothing particular about the fawn (aside from its place on that porch). It was simply a fawn. And it was simply a porch. And it was simply munching on some leaves to the side of that porch. That's it. But don't you think that's enough? Isn't that amazing enough? That there was such a thing as a fawn. And such a thing as a porch. And such a thing as me in my car on my way home from work?

.a Boy

Dear Lady,

I'm sitting in our lobby covering the front desk for Glenda and Drake is playing in the background—Hotline Bling. I didn't set the station either. She listens to this channel out of Syracuse and, typically, it plays Motown music. Every now and again, however, some hip hop creeps up. I've even been here to hear Tupac playing for our clients.
Yep. This place is much cooler than CFCU.

Anyway, I just wanted to write and tell you I love you.
I'm looking forward to maple sugaring with you . . . And I'm looking forward to maple sugaring you?
I really hope these trays that I bought work—they were pricey enough. They look good. Really good. We'll have no resulting sediment and they should, hopefully, be easier to manage than the big bowl. Now we just have to make a new stove.
I saw something online this morning where someone had just built the stove out of rocks—instead of cinder blocks. It'd be cheaper that way, but we don't really have enough rocks. Besides, cinder blocks cost like a nickel. Okay, a little more than that, but they are pretty cheap. I think we can just get some cinder blocks this weekend and build the stove that way. Then I'll just have to accomplish my goal of tapping the trees and not having them leak excessively.
Here's to hoping!

I hope that my attempt at eating healthy helps you on your quest to eat healthier and to be healthier. Sometimes I feel that if I'm doing well at it and you're not that it might be discouraging to you. I hope that's not the case. It's really been your desire to be healthy and fit that has driven my desire to do the same. Running is not something that I've ever enjoyed (and maybe won't ever enjoy), but you've inspired me to do it and a day like Saturday—completing a 5K—provides me with no small level of satisfaction. So thank you for that.
I'll see you tonight.
I love you.

.a Boy

P.S. It sucks that all of the really most flavorful foods are the worst for you. Now excuse me while I eat my carrot . . .