can you come up here and help me out

It was a tweet,

of all things.

Teaching me simple math.

Jolting me wide awake

Hammering home that time we spend – from here – facing forward

is too short

If you’re in the last 10% of time with someone you love, keep that in the front of your mind when you’re with them and treat that time as what it actually is


We’re up top, on the balcony. Motorbikes flow down below, all staccato beep and hurry.

But here, it’s only R and me

and we are the ones that matter.


There’s a whole lot of ants

We work as a team to get this toppled plant back home, where it belongs. Avoiding the tiny critters who’ve made it their home, peeling back the fronds that aren’t quite well, flaking off the soil that just won’t fit.

Helping this poor lost soul to, once again, find its ground.

And I realize that I might not just be talking about a plant

You need to make sure the roots are not bound

This pot might be too small

Grab me the dustpan and broom

He moves with such purpose, surehanded, rich with intent.

Teaching me, yet again.

He’s getting so big

Growing up

Right before my eyes

There are two gifts, today.

One: a friend brings story to our classroom

that lands, harder than a tweet

She reads. And I can’t keep my fingers moving fast enough to capture all of it

When things get difficult, remember who you are.

Who am I

asked the boy

You are loved

said the horse

We spend our moments, hours into weeks, into decades.

And our time is so damn short.

Imagine how we would be if we were less afraid

The second gift, today

Comes from the wisest of friends

who reminds me

When we write, it gives us a sense of permanence

It stays with us

Helps us find our ground

And I stop, for a moment.

To think about why I’m here

why I write, and why I share

When the big things feel out of control, focus on what you love, right under your nose

And, in writing,

I see what is here

I do just that.

focus on what you love, right under your nose


I look my son in the eye

And think of those I love

And those who love me

And I remember.

I don’t always get it right in this world

Who does, really

But when I do

This poor, lost soul, once again

finds its ground.

Published by Radutti

Teaching in Ha Noi, screwing things up daily but surviving to write about it. ...everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?

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    1. Yes! It’s not mine though – borrowed it from from The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy. That’s the book my friend shared today, what a beautiful story it is. Thanks again for this annual gift to all of us as writers and humans.


  1. Radutti, this slice is so full, full of beauty. An ‘awakening’ chalked full of reminders and near confessions. Your writing has had me hooked all month long. Please don’t stop, keep writing, you have an audience waiting. I should read this slice again to note the nuggets. Thank you for being here.


  2. The plant tips over, you and R look at the ants, exmine the roots, fix the soil… and a deep reflection is written. Your writing flows so it seems as if we all should draw these same conclusions! Thanks for another year of sharing your beautiful writing. Your posts about your sons makes me sad I wasnt writing at that stage of my family’s life. Im so glad you are, and I get to read the stories. Thanks also for your very special comments on my writing- I value your words.


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