R
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
precious
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.
Papa
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
So.
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.
Get Up Eight 
Beautiful (as always). This line is haunting: “Imagine how we would be if we were less afraid.”
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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.
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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.
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This has been the best, I think! So much of reflection packed into one slice!
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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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Thanks for capturing these moments
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