Had a laugh over the weekend with friends-turned-family about the irrelevance of this blog. Now, decades later, finding this corner a reference from a simpler past, when self absorbed fools spelled out the nonsense in their heads instead of taking selfies, in the hopes of making something out of nothing.
I used to joke with Kat that I only used to write a long time ago because I was drunk. But now that I'm 40 instead of 20, the realities of day-to-day have completely overrun any desire for self-referential ego stroking. That's what it really seems to be. Maybe because words are better shared over cold inebriating beverages, but also because I would rather act the stories out in real life rather than talk about myself. I guess this is a sign, that I need a drink.
I used to longingly touch photos of lava flows when I was between the ages of 7 and 9, and never in my wildest dreams would have thought I'd ever see this with my own eyes IRL. But what makes it even more special is that I get to share the dreams I had when I was 7, with my own 7 year old. What an incredible experience.
Sort of. I have a bad habit of revisiting this blog almost every five years, and revamping everything from the ground up, but still having it look exactly the same on the outside. Kind of like how our faces are recognizably the same, but when you look back at your past you wonder if you were a totally different person. And we all probably were. It doesn't help that the content on here spans literal decades worth of material - sometimes I have no idea (who wrote it and) where it was headed to begin with. Which probably explains how I found myself here. Still. Lost. I think.
Nickel left us in the early morning of 1/11, after 17 beautiful trips around the sun.
To anyone who really knew Kat and I for the past 15 years, would know how the three of us were TRULY inseparable. You were with us for ALL the mostbeautifulmilestonesof our lives. Our stories about you are not only testament to a life filled with adventure and shenanigans, but the way you taught us how to love each other is etched so deep that I truly knew you were an extension of me, as much as we were an extension of you. I will love you forever, my dearest best friend. Long live, the legend.
VITO APOLLO quite literally landed into my arms during the night of April 4, in what turned out to be an unassisted, unattended homebirth – just me, Kat, and this special one.
We of course did not plan it to unfold this way, but as they say.. life moves pretty fast. There was no time to think, no time to panic.
I’ll never forget the birthing sounds Kat was making in the living room while I took Nickel out to pee. Telling him to hurry up and finish while birthing sounds reverberated throughout the garden. As soon as we get back inside, Kat moaned “I can feel the head”. I mumbled something about it not being true – she hasn’t even been pushing – but she dove back into another powerful wave, and upon closer inspection… she was right. It’s literally like your life flashes before your eyes. All the moments you’ve doubted yourself and said you weren’t good enough and all the moments of youth when you narrowly escape disaster. And you tell yourself, no. This time, I am good enough. And this is the time to make it matter. Time stops when you’re cradling the head of your baby, while the rest of his body is still inside. You pray to high heavens to guide you through this. We are together. This bond is unbreakable. At this moment, and the millions of years and births that have come before.
By the grace of all that is good and great in this world, this baby boy full of life, VITO APOLLO (Mato asking the moon for a sibling since he was 3), came out beautiful and healthy. I could not be more thankful.
I’ll save the other bloody details offline. A traditional birth is nothing short of amazing. Just to see with your own eyes what a mother goes through, a reminder to the rest of us where we all come from. The human body, and how everything comes together is mind blowing. I am not religious, but am extremely blessed that the universe has given my family this gift. To say that I love them to the moon and back would be an understatement. We are nobody without each other.
Always remember – there is no beauty in this world without its mothers. And I can only hope to let this family know that I love them as much as the universe has said it loved me.
I love it how stars can really make you feel socially, physically, emotionally, metaphorically, philosophically, literally distant. Hoping that what prevent us from being better human beings can go ahead and explode up in earth's upper atmosphere at untold speed.
Sometimes you prepare and think you have everything covered. Then you realize there's something that goes wrong, perhaps beyond your control but you are quick to blame yourself anyway for things you could have understood a little bit better. You're not as far as you wish you've gotten. You're not as fast as you hope to be going. It's not as smooth as the pavement that's laid out underneath you. But it's okay, because at the end of the day your heart is in a good place together with the animals you enjoy. The only thing better than an adventure, is one that's shared. Preferably in a VW bus.
It's like a low fire inside that burns really hot. Warmth hidden deep in an endless expanse of cold. Nurture and feed the flame, like the inside of millions of stars so far away..
