Getting in the Miles

Simon: Still no teeth, but profuse drooling.  Still not crawling, but making attempts to be on hands and knees, rolling back and forth to try to get places.  Simon has a super-strong body, like Myles did, and when he is restless (wanting to crawl, to walk) it's hard to hold him.  He leans back to dive out of my arms or pushes me away, stretches to kick anything his feet can reach, just a super-active kid.  He also has an incredible sense of humor.  When not hungry/tired/restless, he's pretty laid back and enjoys being with the family.  He finds Myles hilarious, which Myles in turn finds hilarious.  He smiles a lot and laughs all the time.  Myles recently looked at Simon and said in a sing-song voice "Nightmare!"  Simon cracked up.  Repeat.  Endlessly.  Simon's ticklish on his neck and under his arms and loves to have his thighs squeezed, so I can almost always get a giggle out of him, even when he's cranky.  Myles said yesterday, "Simon's neck needs to grow.  We have normal necks but Simon hasn't grown one yet."  It's true, his neck is a series of chubby creases that gather food, drool, and grime, but he loves bath time.  He's a sweet one.

Myles: He either loved our vacation with every cell in his body or loathed it, depending on the moment.  We had lots of talks about attitude, as I remember my parents having with me.  He obsesses over things we've put limits on like sweets and tv.  He resists all attempts to put anything soothing on his body like sunscreen, lotions, and ointments.  His legs look like summer, a mess of bug bites and scrapes covered with a dusting of golden hair.  Like Seth, his legs are long, thin, and 100% muscle.  We had a good laugh the other day when he finally grew out of his Diego underpants (they were too short on his waist, but still not too tight), which he's had since he was 3 years old.  His arms and legs grow long, but his waist and thighs are still the same size they were when he was 3.  He's tall.  Once he wakes up, he's in constant motion and has portions of the day when he absolutely must break out into spontaneous song at the top of his lungs.  To sum it up, he continues to be a force of nature, which can be beautiful, amazing, overwhelming, and grating all in the course of a single day.  He's an awesome big brother to Simon. 

2013 Family Vacation in Charleston, SC: As we arrived at the Church St Inn, we recognized the French Quarter Inn across the street as the exact place where Seth and I spent our rainy honeymoon, watching the Olympics on tv and making one overcast trip to the beach.  Downtown Charleston is a beautiful place to stay--not far from the beach, but far enough that Myles was not drawn to it like a magnet every waking hour.  When Simon's bedtime rolled around, Myles and Seth would hit the streets, weaving through downtown, eating ice cream and seeing the many sights.  We visited Circular UCC again, the oldest church in Charleston, absolutely breath-taking.  In its backyard is a graveyard, and Myles wandered through it feeling right at home.  The kid loves graveyards and cemeteries.  Seth ran every day through the sticky heat, he's training for another race.  I was able to get out to run once, early evening, before dinner.  Seth gave me directions and I ran alongside the downtown market to the water's edge, through the park with the splash pad; kids everywhere screaming and wet, full of summer's joy.   I ran on the ashy path next to the water, taking in the boats, other runners overtaking me at every turn as I plodded along; slow, light-headed, hot.  I passed the dog park and found myself beside the very park where I remembered walking with our family when we vacationed here the year my dad was supposedly cured from cancer.  A bride and groom paused next to a large canon, having their pictures made.

I knew where the run would take me, and that I would think of my dad.  Remembering even what he wore that night, some Tennessee orange golf shirt, his hair all there, his energy and color full of life.  He told Seth that week as they ran along the beach that he had a new lease on life.  They had operated to remove a large sarcoma tumor and believed they had gotten it all.  No cells in the margin.  He was in full remission.  I remember that feeling we all had, as if we'd narrowly missed a collision with fate.  We were the lucky ones, and we wouldn't forget this time the beauty of the present moment, the brevity of life, the fragility of human living.

Except the remission didn't stick.

Still, my dad did have a new lease on life, because all through the months that followed--the new tumors and the chemo, the operation and hospital stay, the slow draining of my dad's life--he loved just about every second of it.  He thanked every nurse who poked and prodded him with a stunning sincerity.  And part of his legacy was a new lease on life for all who survived him.

Remembering the way he rolled with it, I thought about how much life has taught me as I ran through that Charleston park.  We thought we knew the endgame--his cancer in remission, his life narrowly saved.  The purpose of his illness was not to kill him but to teach us to better appreciate life and one another.  But that was not how it happened.  And when he accepted that the cancer was back and the fight was on once again, he leaned into life still.

I learned so much from watching him.  I somehow grew up believing so strongly in myself that I imagined I could bend life.  If I wanted it, I would go out and get it.  Strong-willed.  But I've learned from watching my dad, from having children and starting a  new community of faith, that life has its way with all of us.  And that's not a bad thing.  We learn most when we are brought to our knees, wandering outside our comfort zones, stretched beyond capacity.  When we turn our hard shells over and finally go belly-up--vulnerable to pain and change--that's when we truly grow.  Like building muscle or gaining mileage, it hurts.  But the rewards exceed the pain.  I tried to will my way through a natural birth when I had Myles, and that's not the way new life comes forth.  With Simon, I had to let the labor roll over me and just ride the waves. 

The water was beautiful as I ran, the city old and gorgeous, full of history both glorious and painful.  I thought of my dad laughing.  Telling Seth, "Get in the miles for me."  We are.