A Historic Day of Love

I cried when I got to tell my children that they and their friends will be free to marry whoever they want to when they are grown. My heart soars knowing that, whatever social prejudices may linger, a basic respect for love is now on the side of the law, and I cried when I realized that their own kids, should they have any, will grow up thinking that those prejudices are so weird and retro. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who worked towards this.

This doesn't feel like victory, it feels like the lifting of a heavy weight, like regaining the ability to breathe, like relief.

Celebrating in style

So happy today.

For my Dad

Dad & I at Niagra Falls in 1980-something

Dad,

I want to wish you a super duper happy Father's Day... I am so lucky to have had the wonderful love and support you have provided me with throughout my entire life. It is a love and support that I can always count on, and always take great comfort in as I move through my own crazy life. I certainly don't take it for granted.

Thank you for helping me to be the person I am today. Thank you for arming me with many of the tools I use every day as I face the weird challenges life provides, and thank you for sharing your humor and your respect in the process. I always know that I can count on you to have my back, even from myself. And I always know that you are there if I want to share a silly video or a cool new bit of performance art...thank you for still being such an important part of my life, despite the geographical distance.  I hope that will continue to be true forever!  (Except maybe that distance bit.  I do hope that someday it won't be such a big gap.)

I love you so very much.

Happy father's day!

Kate

I love you, Dad!

10 years after a very important question was asked...

Dear James,

9 years ago today, we exchanged vows and rings in a sunlit atrium filled with family and friends. We began a journey of a lifetime, a beginning that elated us... despite both having raging head colds and being young enough to have no idea where life was going to take us, we knew this was a Big Good Thing.

Nine years, three kids, 12 moves, and countless ups and downs later, I can honestly say that it absolutely was a Big Good Thing, one that has lead to more Big Good Things than I can count.

9 years ago today - photo by Terry Donovan

I love you so much, James, and I am so proud of you, of our family, and everything we have built. As we embark on our tenth year of marriage, facing ever new trials and opportunities, I want you to know that making this commitment to you was unquestionably one of the best thing I have ever done. 

Time - experience, really - changes people. It changes one's sense of self, strengthens one's identity. It nudges world views and philosophies and dreams into new paradigms. Sometimes, what fit as a bright eyed young adult may not fit as well after time has taught its lessons, even if it it is still every bit as wonderful as it ever was. And sometimes, what you take on at a young age is bigger than you know, and over time you grow into it, and learn so much more than you ever knew you would find...

We have undeniably changed and morphed and grown over the past nine years, and I want to honor that fully. Ten years ago, as a man of a mere 20 years, you asked me a very important question - and as a young woman of 20, I said yes.  Now, 10 years older and wiser, I want to take a turn asking a very important question:

James, after everything we have been through, and knowing all that you now know, being the man that you are now at 30, will you agree to meet me a year from now, and exchange vows once again?

As the woman I am now at 30, I can say without hesitation that I love you far beyond all words, and I want to be able to continue to change and grow and morph right along with you as we take on the relative confidence of not-quite-as-young-adulthood. If you, as the person you are at this point in time, can honestly say that you feel the same way, then let's mark next's years anniversary by doing it all again, and allow our commitment to reflect all the richness that we have added to our lives over the course of this decade, with eyes to the future and its many possibilities.

I love you, James.  Should you say no, I will still love you, and support you, and will continue to be extraordinarily proud of who you have become, and where you are headed. My heart will hurt, but I will still be so very grateful for the time we have spent, and I will know that my time was not wasted.  I am not expecting a rote answer from you, and I don't want you to give me an answer based on obligation or history...I hope with all my being that you will say yes, but I can't fully honor the person you are now without accepting the vulnerability of letting this be a fresh choice.

With my whole heart

Kate

UPDATE: He said yes. :-) 

So much love

Today also marks my parents' anniversary, and I want to use the opportunity to honor the fact that, however things played out in the end, there was so. much. love. there, and nothing can change that. 

I love you both so much.

Mom, Dad, and Coriander

Profound words

Tonight, as we were laying calmly in the dark, quietly waiting for sleep, Hazel (who was cuddled up with kitty Lily) began to sing very softly. It was a beautiful little tune of her own making, and I found this teeny snippet remarkably profound (and wonderful:

"When you hear a heart beating, how can you not sing along?"

Touché, Hazel my dear. Touché.

Five years ago today...

This amazing little spirit is celebrating five whole years on this planet today. I can't believe it.

Hazel, you bring me more joy than you will ever know. You never cease to inspire, delight, amaze, and challenge me in all the best ways. You are an amazing person, and I love you more than it's possible to express.

Happy Birthday!!!

Caught in the Current

Tonight I stayed up way too late, remembering with my sister. Remembering all the weird little moments leading up to so many deaths in the past couple years. Laughing, letting it all suck. It feels very grounding to be able to talk about it, and especially to talk about it with someone who doesn't feel the need to heartbrokenly listen to the stories with a pitying sorrow - don't get my worng, sometimes that is just what the heart orders, but sometimes...sometimes those experiences need to just be allowed to BE, just like any other part of life.

Somewhat tangentially I was scrolling through old photos, trying to figure out how I had mis-ordered them, when I stumbled upon the visual record of the chunk of time in the first half of 2013 when mom was still alive, we still lived in NYC, I had all three of my children, James was finishing his last semester before taking on his hard won clerkship, we saw friends often, the kids adored school, I was doing aerial and stilting and unicycling, developing a film and planning many other creative endeavors...our family was thriving, and I felt like my life, while amazingly difficult was - well, it just...it just fit. It felt right. I felt potential in everything we did, and even preparing for the inevitable decline of mom's health that we knew was coming felt purposeful...at least I was able to provide this for her, there was so much we could do to comfort her, to try to help her live and love and learn enough in that year to make up for the forty years of future she wouldn't see, and to revel in everything she had to offer me...it sucked, it was painful and gut wrenching, but I felt alive. I felt like I had managed to create for myself the life I hadn't even known I wanted, but everything during that spring, wonderful or horrible, just seemed to fit in a way that gave me a sense of fulfillment that I knew my mother would be proud to witness, but more importantly, I suppose, brought me a sense of peace.

It made me reflect on what has happened since, and where I find myself now.

It's hard to explain how upside down everything has felt these past two years or so. I feel like we moved to DC, my mother died, my health declined, and everything just unraveled. I still have my wonderful family, and I'm still taking steps to try to regain that sense of fulfillment that made me feel so whole, but when it comes right down to it, I don't feel happy anymore. 

It's hard to admit that. Especially in a forum where I know so many supportive, loving friends and family can see it and be offended or saddened, but it's an honest element of the experience and I don't think I can move past it without admitting and acknowledging it. They say the first step to fixing a problem is to admit you have one, right? So hi, my name is Kate, and I am struggling with grief. 

So here I find myself; 30 years old, with a wonderful husband who has a reliable, meaningful job that will support our family enough so that I have the awesome opportunity to stay home with our three amazing children. We are in the process of buying a house and heck, maybe I will throw in a white pickett fence just to round out the stereotype and drive home the fact that I've somehow fallen into the American Dream. 

I certainly dont mean to come across as ungrateful, because what I have and the opportunities I have been given are utterly priceless. But this has never been what I wanted. 

My soul felt happiest navigating the crazy streets of NYC with my three littles, soaking in every sight, sound, and opportunity. Creating moments of truth in my art that could touch people, maybe scratch their minds enough to think a little bit beyond their usual box. Making connections, making things happen, and sharing opportunities...here, I feel stifled, isolated, voiceless...and the thought of settling into a suburban house for a decade makes me feel like a little bit more of my soul is dying. 

These days I don't see my friends very often. I found a job that was briefly fulfilling but quickly turned toxic. I spend my days fretting over whether I can live up to the task of homeschooling these kids while realizing their skill sets are so far beyond expectations that just returning to a regular neighborhood school would be crushing. We are looking to buy a house that we will "settle" into for the next decade, and it makes me feel like a little bit more of my soul is dying. I don't feel at home here. I feel like a fish out of water; homesick, lonely, and powerless. My career network exists on a plane I can't easily reach from my geographic location; and even emotionally. I have a lot of work to do before I can join my peers in creating meaningful work again.