I know I'm soon to get crazy busy and simply won't be reaching out as much. I don't think that's the talk of a winner, and I promised to be that.
I will be busy, and I will write twice a week, and I'll put that in my schedule. The voice in my head says “What schedule?” but that's just a voice, and there are others.
I'm coming/going to set up a business, not a practice, not an I'll get to it when I get to it, or when it's urgent, but orderly, German, and find within that freedom and fun and magical creation.
I think this was my hardest taking of leave from you all. I say to myself that we have it easy. It's not like the settlers of a generation or two ago. You could talk to any of the old-timers, just a few years older than Sharleen, that came to Bet Rimon, and had the opportunity to speak to their families over weak connections around the holidays, and that was it. Or a generation before that, when letters would have been the means of communication, and phone calls a luxury. They were so still when I was a child.
But I suppose everything comes in its own context.
What I do have to celebrate is a new Yakov. I don't know what's been breathed into you, but you've grown, become something greater, and it's amazing to be in your presence.
And I'll miss my Lani, my almost always willing sidekick, the first person I call when I need a hand, the person whose ideas I sometimes find hard to follow, but who inspires me as you are always thinking, looking to deepen your wisdom, make new connections, try out a new thought, and even take up a physical challenge when I throw one out. You are the child I most get to play with, and I'll miss that. And I think maybe we should find a way to play from a distance.
Uri, about you I always worry, though I've no idea way. In ways physical, you've done a lot of work to be the finest specimen of our family. In ways practical, you've been working so long, it would be hard for most people to catch up to your practical knowledge. And you think as well.
Yours is a spirit I wish I'd had more of whon I was young. My automatic conversation is one of fear that I let stop me. Yours is more like “Fear, ok, nice conversation, I'm going to play anyway.”
I'm glad you took that on. It's inspiring. And a little scary sometimes, but I know you've got the head on your shoulders to mitigate the risks; so I should worry less, but I don't.
Manu, I love your independent spirit. I love your willingness to play and create with your mother.
I just wish I could know you better, but when I think about it, I didn't much let my parents know me at your age. I don't think I would have answered half the questions I ask you either, and would probably have given half-assed answers when I ded.
I could like to think that I created a different clearing with you, but maybe that's just the way teenagers are.
And it's like the conversation we had the other evening. Kids get raised by the ir peers a as much as by their parents, and perhaps that is where you look now. Maybe I never found much comfort there, but you seem to de doing fine; so maybe I should just not worry. I do so much want . . . I don't even know what I want.
I guess all I really want is for you to be hapy, and you seem to be that.
I trust you've got a good heart and good values. It''s not even trust, that's way too weak a word.
And Sharleen, I know this is hard for you, and I don't know what to do to make it better. I started this thought like thirteen hours ago, and I am too zonked right now to come out well.
It's decidedly fall here, which feels beautiful. Dahlia and I took a trek through Mianus River Park today. When I visited last with Lani, the Friday before my father died, it was a walk. But it's not that way with Dahlia.
Anyway, I'm off to bed.
I haven't set my schedule yet, but there's a chance I can get this done tomorrow.