Skip to main content

SOCIAL MEDIA



Traffic came to a complete stop as detour signs poorly navigated us around closed roads. We were early, the concert didn’t start for another three hours, but we figured it would be best to have plenty of time to find a parking spot and maybe grab a bite to eat before she took the stage. The line of vehicles in front of us turning one at a time, without any sense of urgency, proved the validity of our thought process.

We turned our music off and rolled our windows down inviting the September breeze into our car while we waited. Then we heard a familiar voice. We heard lines we recalled to music we knew and we realized she was warming up. We were so early that we got to listen to her run through a few songs and talk to her band and the sound technician adjusting the feedback of her microphone.

My wife’s favorite singer is Grace Potter and when I heard she was having a concert within driving distance, I got the tickets as soon as they became available. It’s not often the opportunity to check something off your bucket list presents itself within close range, within the stretch of your fingertips. We got the tickets and counted down the days and made a mark on her proverbial list. Grace Potter? Check.

We parked our car and walked around the venue for a small place to eat, all the while listening to her voice following us, loud and clear, passionate and soulful, even during a sound check. We finished our appetizers and the last of our drinks and made our way through the tall buildings lining the streets and back to the stage. We found a comfortable spot in the front row and waited patiently.

The sun started sliding away taking the light with it and in its place were spotlights of purple and pink and red and orange. Finally Grace stepped on stage, kicked her shoes off, hit every note and I fell in love with my wife a little more. After 16 years, I still enjoy dating her - even though we’re married, even though we have a child together, even though it doesn’t happen nearly enough – the journey is so much more fun when your best friend is riding shotgun.



GRACE? CHECK.

September 28, 2016



She gave them both a hug, her two favorite stuffed animals, and dropped them into a pillowcase. She watched as they were placed in the washing machine and once the cycle started she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Tuffy, the little stuffed dog she sleeps with every night, and Fluffy, her go-to stuffed animal that’s not very fluffy at all. She’s had them forever, you could tell by their scent.

She’d heard horror stories of toys that belonged to her mother and me being washed when we were kids that somehow didn’t survive. Toys we loved that fell apart, that lost pieces, that didn’t make it through the spinning and the drying to look like new on the other side. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, hoping to be reunited with her friends unharmed within the hour.

Sometimes we have to step back and take an honest look at the things we hold closest to us. Sometimes we have to acknowledge their function in our lives, we have to assess our need for them, we have to ask ourselves what void they’re filling or what service they’re providing. Sometimes we have to rid ourselves of them or repurpose them and sometimes we have to cleanse them and hope for the best.

She heard the dryer finish and ran to the door. She reached into the pillowcase and she pulled out Tuffy, then Fluffy. She hugged them again, warm and tight to her chest, comfort and security in toy form. She skipped up the stairs and placed them back on her bed where they would wait until nighttime prayers were said and bedtime stories were read. Sometimes old can be new again.

LIKE NEW

September 21, 2016


I watched her feet, one then the other, climb the steps that essentially led to nowhere. There was a rumbling thunder in the distance and a dark cloud overhead; I didn’t want to be the one to rain on her parade so I failed to mention either. I watched her navigate random stairs we stumbled upon and peep into the window of a shop at the landing. I watched the wind play games with her brown curls while she attempted to tuck a few strands behind her ear.

I watched her explore.

I watched her reach the top of the stairs and the inevitable realization that it wasn’t what she thought it was going to be. She turned around, looking left and right, then she looked down to make her way back to me. I watched her take every step with caution and intention. I watched her get distracted by a random penny resting just under her shoe. I watched her pick it up, a souvenir she would have missed had she found another way down.

I watched her smile.

She asked if she could do it again, climb the stairs that led to nowhere. She wondered if things would be different once she got up there, if something along the way would stop her or catch her eye or turn her around. She questioned if once she reached the top, would she find another way down, would she follow the same path as before or find another souvenir. She was curious to know if the view would be different as it's almost guaranteed to be. 

I encouraged it. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, I’m sure.

THE VIEW

September 14, 2016


Sometimes it feels like parenting is a checklist of milestones, events written beside squares waiting to be marked through, and sometimes we get so caught up in the big moments that we forget to take note of the little things. We get so wrapped up in the days to come that we fail to acknowledge the day to day. Sometimes we’re so focused on the next task, the next chore, that we miss the in between.

Sometimes we lose track of the journey by looking for the destination.

I have to remind myself often to slow down. I have to remind myself that it’s okay if all the things aren’t completed all of the time. I have to remind myself that when she’s older, I want her to look back on her youth as fun and positive not time spent waiting on the adults to finish the adult things.  I have to remind myself what it’s like to be a kid again. I have to remind myself to learn, not just teach.

She constantly reminds me how important it is to swim instead of simply treading water.

Every day with her is an adventure. She points out the clouds and the buildings and the plants and the people. She discovers things she’s never seen before and instantly makes up a story to accompany her findings. She takes deep breaths and inhales the world around her. She laughs. She lets her eyes scan the horizon soaking in every detail of her surroundings. She lives.

Parenting, I’ve learned, is seeing the world all over again through their eyes - living defined.


LIVING DEFINED

September 7, 2016

Follow @bradleycowan on Instagram