We have a beautifully restored theater in town. It attracts live performances as well as wonderful, independent movies. Playing now is “Boyhood”, an American coming-of-age drama, written and directed by Richard Linklater. It’s remarkable because it was filmed, with the same cast, over the span of 12 years.

I’ve been meaning to go see it, but haven’t found the time. Tonight I watched the trailer to see what I’ve been missing:

I got about 8 seconds in and I broke into tears.

I can’t go watch this movie. I have already lived this movie twice. I do not need to pay money and sit still for 166 minutes and be painfully reminded that I’m going to do it again.

And again.

I am living Boyhood.

As I brush my teeth, I turn and see the backs of two scrawny 7-year-old boys in their Scooby-Doo unders, arms draped around each other’s neck, shoulder blades sticky out at sharp angles, talking to each other into the mirror.

These are the babies that I rocked to sleep simultaneously while drinking in their milky scent, feeling their delicious weight on my lap. It all happens in such slow motion, that when I take a moment to stop the wheel, I’m a bit shocked to see what has unfolded right in front of me. As John Lennon said so eloquently in Beautiful Boy, (Darling Boy): “Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans.”

Yes, I know that is what this movie is about. I know what happens next. I do not need to be reminded, thanks very much.

I want to stay right here-where their gangly limbs have yet to grow muscles, their big teeth don’t quite fit their faces. I want to stay in this place of giggles and need. I don’t need to watch it all change in a little over 2 hours, no matter how big of an endeavor the film project was.

The real-time minutes are moving too fast as it is.



...becomes this

…becomes this









...becomes this

…becomes this


















...becomes this

…becomes this



“The only way to make sense out of change is to

plunge into it,

move with it,

join the dance.”  

~Alan Watts


The screen flickers and suddenly there you are, a nine-year old boy lounging on the couch, tracing tanks from a book.

It takes my breath away to see you again so suddenly. The videotape was unearthed this afternoon victoriously by your sister- her long-lost baby tape. Her baby image stuns me as well, but here she sits, beaming beside me, in all of her 10-year-old deliciousness.

With you it’s a different story. You have morphed into a man and have left that couch behind, left us all behind. Of course, the goal all along was for you to leave us behind. That is what we worked towards every day, for all of those years. That was what all that love was about: building you, building you, building you, so you would have the strength and the guts and the drive to leave us all behind.

And you did it so well, my amazing, beautiful boy. You decided what you wanted and checked your fear at the door. You walked away from your family, your friends, your town and your country -everything that was known to you- all for the adventure of it. I couldn’t be more proud.

So I sit and mourn the loss of the nine-year old version of you. This mothering gig is so much more complex than I ever thought it would be. I honestly had no idea that my sweet babies would grow long and get big teeth (that their bodies would need to grow into) and sprout dark hairs and speak unrecognizably low. It never occurred to me that you would grow up.

But somewhere deep in me, I knew. Of course I knew. That is evolution. It is in all of us. Instinctively, I knew my job.

But it all happened so quickly. Were you ever a baby? Is that really you on the couch? And who was that woman behind the camera? Is she the same person who weeps for you now? Will I be asking these same questions ten years from now?

Yes. I will. So it reminds me to hug a little tighter and speak a little kinder.

You were the first. You blazed the trail and you have done a magnificent job. Your siblings will follow, even if they believe that they are not. You have shown them what can be done, what is possible. They will do it in their own unique way, but you were the first. You will always be the big brother.

You will always be my child.

3 days old Our life as we knew it was over

3 days old
Our life, as we knew it, was over


My serious boy, dealing with serious things

My serious boy, dealing with serious things.
Things that will mold and shape
and make you who you are




luke in Brazil

My boy doing just fine in Brazil



Before you cross the street,

Take my hand

Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans  ~ John Lennon  

                                                                                                  “Beautiful boy (Darling boy)”