Family emergency, you could say. A place I needed to be, things I needed to do. Priorities.
My children are my priorities, and have been since they were born.
My husband, my mom.
Three daughters, two grandsons, and two granddaughters.
They keep me grounded. They keep me from weaving all night, and from working 24 hours a day. My gene pool would have me doing that.
But they pull me back from the brink, each in their own ways, with the things that they need, the things that I want to do with them, and for them.
A good thing.
I love them more than I can say.
And everything is OK, working out exactly the way it is supposed to.
You should be hearing a big sigh on this end. A really big sigh.
They say that blood is thicker than water. But it isn't blood, it's love.
One grandson, and one granddaughter, sorting and cleaning loopers for the upcoming kits.
Somehow today, when we got back to the studio, and they were in the barn with me, I felt the presence of the circle that they made.
Speaking of gene pools.
Today is my Dad's birthday. I missed him today.
And out of the blue, a memory came.
Some of my family on my mother's side was coming from England for a vacay.....they were coming into Kennedy Airport. I needed a way to get me, and 5 of them, back from New York City to upstate New York, a good 5 hour trip. They weren't going to fit in my car.
My father had a van, an old conversion van, that ran pretty well. He offered it for the trip, but said we needed to go out in it, so that I could drive it, and get used to it, first.
So we did.
Somewhere along the way, he made it clear that if the van was going to NYC, he was going with it. I hadn't considered that.
On our test drive, on a perfectly nice May day, he had the heater blasting. The sweat was pouring down my face. He was cold.
The country music was blasting from speakers in every corner. He was deaf.
When we finally got back, I vowed to myself that there was no way I was driving 5 hours down and 5 hours back, under those conditions, even if the van was free.
And I didn't.
I rented a Ford Windstar, and drove it to NYC without my father and his insufferable heater, and his annoying country music.
Today, on what would have been his 88th birthday, I look at a picture of him, sitting on my front lawn. Big coke bottle glasses, a shock of bright white hair, his signature white tee shirt, and a dazed look.
Today, if I could, I would drive across the country with my father, in his conversion van, sweaty and singing country songs all the way.