“Anything is subject for a poem:

A catalog of boxing equipment, a collage of other poems,

Serpentine trail of incense, raised deer fur, old

shoes pointed pigeon-toed. . .

The homing swoop of a gull, chill whitecapped

bay, scent of eucalyptus.

Green lawn of broken blades, clods of fat earth.

Anything is subject for a poem.”

~ Deng Ming-Dao, “365 Tao Daily Meditations”

Charlie wakes early and Frank gets up with him. I have a big, fat book and I open it and linger in bed before dawn. I am reading George Packer’s “Our Man: Richard Holbrooke and the End of the American Century,” a novelized biography of Richard Holbrooke - so large it’s taking days of beach reading and nights of staying awake enjoying the depth of this exploration of foreign policy and history and government. But I get up into the bright morning and head out the door almost on schedule into our delicious ritual: woods, beach, a swim at Great Rock Bight. People at other, busier times of the day leave evidence of their sand play: rock sculptures and rock writing. No whining is right. Later, at my desk, my son nearby at his, (after his meditation on the stool in the next room), reads aloud to me a passage he KNOWS I’ll enjoy from his “365 Tao Daily Meditations” about poetry. I love that he understands what I care about. It has been just the three of us so far on this trip: the original family. Frank, Land, and me. Our boy, our first child, our first year of marriage, in our first home, our condo in Florida, and then the five years it was just the three of us all the time, everywhere before our daughter was born. And my husband and I are appreciating this relaxing, talking, sunning, reading, swimming, game playing time with him all to ourselves.

Anything is subject for a poem. A grown child, a first born, meditation, athleticism, his day of fasting yesterday, his dog whispering and his gentle big soul, his listening and helping and respecting and caring about people. His equanimity: accepting life on life’s terms. This man who sits, balanced in silence, was the boy I was certain was hyperactive and never stopped moving while awake. This skilled martial artist who wouldn’t harm a fly who dreamed as a boy of growing up to fight bad guys. We were so busy with work, with making a living, with running our practices and making a home for us. Now is the time we can give each other such a high quality of focused attention. We are here. We are now. We enjoy each other’s company. All those times in over thirty years, doubts, concerns, worries, insecurities: are we doing this parenting thing right enough? In fact, yes. In fact, we were. We are.