December Night

My dearest son.

Music. It makes the house feel like home. E noodles around on his trumpet. Such talent - he learns by watching, and I'm amazed at all the things I know are inside of him. Like you, he does things his own way. It's relaxing to hear him learning new songs as I hook up the electronic piano. Yes, the one I barely know how to operate beyond playing the keyboard. I need to have M sit down with me and teach me all that this contraption is capable of. That would be a fun thing to do this next year, along with brushing up on my French.

The downstairs family room is a mess. Chords everywhere, evidence of Dad's work and your brothers' gaming. We'll figure out where the extra TV will go.

Remember when you and E started sharing a bedroom, and we were so upset with each other because you tried to organize it differently than I thought it should be? I felt E needed more space. What's funny is E didn't care. He rarely does. He has his priorities in the right place when it comes to people being more important than things.

I wish you could meet E's dog. Oh, wait ... you probably have! Isn't he something? E is such a good daddy to that dog. So much more consistent as a parent than I ever was. So caring and loyal. I like to watch him with Oz.


We miss you. Thanks for letting me know you are near. I'm trying to open my heart to your hellos. I'm trying to believe that all those little coincidences aren't coincidences. Thank you for being brave. Thank you for being our angel.