so goodnight moonlight ladies....

i readied my ingredients and got set to chop some onions for lasagna. my ipod shuffled to "sweet baby james" by james taylor...a lullabye that immediately makes me think of my nephew (james "jasper" laster). which makes me think of my sister.

which makes me think of the fact that she lives on the opposite coast. and that i see her but maybe three times a year at best. which makes the lump in my throat grow.

because it makes me think of the decisions we all make...of how when i was a teenager i formulated a life plan that included the eventual purchase of a home with a guest house for my brother jay...because he would have to live with me so we could never be apart (duh). which makes me realize that we, too, are far away from each other (in a couple of ways).

kurly and dyl are going to portland next month to check things out...will they end up across the country? as they told me of their plans, i nodded and was truly excited for them, and i understand, and i know what it means to need to move. but the lump....she grows.

i know that this is what it means to grow up. and this is what happens as we become who we are to become and meet our spouses and figure out what and where we would like to be. sometimes it feels cruel and unfair (i can only imagine how this must sometimes strike our parents, like a sucker punch in the gut when they look around and realize that their babies are gone).

sometimes it feels like an impossibility to strengthen our ties to our families, both those that we were born into and those whom we have chosen. so please, forgive me if i haven't done the best job of this. i fear that i will become worse at it as life changes and grows. that my niece and nephew won't really know me beyond the kooky aunt who sends them weird things in the mail and kind of sounds and looks like their mom.

that eventually as we shape shift into moms and dads and other forms of grownups ourselves we will all morph into other people, letting those threads of home and youth slip from our fingers, take a backseat, turn into a name on the christmas card list. and that makes me sad beyond words.