BB + MS

 

Up (Mill) creek

 

County

 

An Open Letter

 Dear readers, friends and family:

My son's friend passed away yesterday, in the wee hours of the morning. For those of you who know me well, you’ll know that my son and his hockey friends are closer to family. For the past almost-fourteen years, we’ve been living for hockey, playing at home and doing our best to take care of everything else.

You guys, I can’t even begin to explain what a shock this is to our hockey family. His loss will be devastating, and I know I’ll need some time to grieve, comfort and care for my son and my son’s hockey family. Although this is hard to type, I need you to know something:

Markus has been my crutch in this, whether he realizes it or not. Watching a loved one grieving and feeling so helpless is one of the heaviest experiences of life, and being able to fill my head space with his positivity, his inspirational moment of silence that he announced and organized tonight before the game has created a balance that I know has carried me through this time.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t add that there is a grander design at work here. I rarely talk about religion here, but I suppose Logan’s death has opened my eyes to a larger design — that of the human spirit, his timing and a bigger universe where we’re all connected.

And for me, that is the ultimate gratitude.

Thank you for your support. I’ll be checking in here periodically this week and will return Monday.

Love to you all.

Born To Lead

Congrats, Captain. 

His last few years of high school have flown by, specifically because he was captain of the hockey team and has sold his soul to morning practices, weight lifting and boys in hockey gear. And if you know anything about hockey gear, then you know everything about hockey gear. It smells, it’s wet and it sometimes turns white-ish.

Mid-season of his senior year in high school, his coach decided it would be fun to make a senior night celebration, Tim, who we properly know as Timmer, who promptly rented the ice, which was promptly given to the rest of us.

Anyway. The rental was to see just how long we could milk it for posters OR posing in front of them before the zamboni break. I did the math, and I was quite sure I could tape up the posters Monday night, considering Markus is the captain, and well, his shoulder is still hurting at times.

Yet the scrimmage game came and went, and he proudly won the title of Captain, giving his mom flowers. It was simply irresistible.

The Senior Night, I bet, as the end of school is fast approaching again and who knows how COVID known as the messy, smelly-stinky destructor of normalcy, will affect all other typical senior celebrations. Yet Markus continued to play with his injured shoulder (typical boy behavior, yes?) until districts this year. In February. And hopefully it won't all fall apart like last year.

I don’t have to tell you what it felt like to my sweet son during the short-lived four weeks of non-playing and practicing. I will tell you that the result of the night was not unlike that of a sheep preparing itself for the groomers: energized and in a very good mood.

I will also tell you that the terms of the night? We’ll just say it involved a real fan-club and a sudden incline in Markus’s popularity.

Above is a snippet of my hope-to-be-published memoir, Markusfanography. If you know of a publisher that’s nice and likes silly girls, please email me!

 

Alta Powder Day

 

A Happy Memory Never Wears Out

 

"Listen, I don't say these things very often so listen closely okay?"

"I'm really comfortable with you. And I know I get grumbly so the next time I do and you need to go outside, I really hope in my heart that you come back in."

"I may not have the best physical health, so if I die I want you to know...

Prema wants Divy to have the house when I die, but I can put in my trust that you get to live here until you die." ~ Martin 

On Black Out Days

 

A Peek Into Our Day Off

 

You're mine, he says. 

This month, as all, has been one of the good and the not-so. The two of us carving out a day together to split a pepperoni and honey bread and sit on a mountain top, learning halfway through the first avalanche training course how to use a shovel to test the snow. Preparing for what to do in an avalanche at the same time to keep it far away. Stalled beacons, afternoon runs. Pizza crumbs to clean from the oven.

But also: pizza.

Last week, at work, I run into a woman with a brain tumor who is also homeless. I call into the pharmacy and I order her the steroid from the MD, ask what else she needs for today.

Just some words, is what she said.
Me too, is what I thought.

Extra kindness, please, I say to the social worker.

—

A Lorrie Moore quote from my journal:
“There was finally, I knew, only rupture and hurt and falling short between all persons, but the best revenge was to turn your life into a small gathering of miracles. If I could not be anchored and profound, I would try, at least, to be kind.”

"May your hands be soft & healing & always warm!" - Martin

Enjoying your day? is what Martin asks in the snow. When he draws flowers for me in the snow, when he passes the familiar cup of tea. When we’re leaving the valley, skis in hand. When we’re on our way to Guardsman, the mountain top, a sunrise.

Enjoying your day? with curious eyes.

Yes, I say.

But especially this morning, over a bowl of muesli and a cup of espresso that Martin pulled, he puts his spoon down and interrupts my sleepy impression to ask: Enjoying your day?

I am now, I tell him.

Nice, he says, takes another milky bite.

Enjoying my day.

I'm yours, I say.