A book was born this week.

If there were birth announcements for such things, it might read,

“Weighing in at just under seven ounces, with more than 55,000 words stretching across 220-or-so pages, this book came into the world to a grand release party in attendance that challenged the fire marshall. This newborn is really quite lovely and articulate, albeit vulnerable and brutally honest. Artist has the radiant glow and exhaustion of having just given birth. Mother and child are doing fine.”

It’s Saturday afternoon, and all of today’s football games have been cancelled due to ‘field conditions’ in what could now be renamed Seattle, Colorado.

Tyler is building some epic structures with Legos, and he alternates between singing songs from Shrek the Musical or just the phrase “that’s what it’s all about” from the Hokey Pokey.

Tuck is strolling through the neighborhood, giving us riveting birdwatching updates via walkie-talkie. He found a ten-inch worm and brought him inside to show me. (Why must they always show me?) I’m telling you, that thing’s size was worthy of a biology dissection.

Then he opened the window to release the worm back out into his original habitat. By throwing him. From the second story. (Please don’t write to me, worm activitists.)

I am nestled into a papasan chair in my writing studio, drinking coffee and nursing a tender heart because somehow I have released a book that my husband will never read.

Pandora plays songs that send me their own message with a beginning, middle and end.

First Garth Brooks,

I’m glad I didn’t know the way it all would end,
The way it all would go.
Our lives are better left to chance.
I could have missed the pain,
But I’d have had to miss
The dance.

Then Lee Brice,

That’s when you know it’s over.
That’s when you know you made it over to the other side,
Ready for another round.
That’s when you know it’s over –
When you wouldn’t go back even if you could,
When hearing he’s happy finally feels good,
That’s when you know it’s over

And then Garth Brooks again,

You know a dream is like a river
Ever changing as it flows.
And a dreamer’s just a vessel
That must follow where it goes.
Trying to learn from what’s behind you
And never knowing what’s in store
Makes each day a constant battle
Just to stay between the shores.

I will sail my vessel
‘Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I’ll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
‘Til the river runs dry

Joy and grief are sisters.  There’s a hole in my happiness today.

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