Month: March 2007

Back in Portland Marisa was an important part of my daily life. We lived in the same neighborhood, shared meals all the time, and performed together; I went on tour with her band, and we’ve done solo shows.

If someone in the family needed help she was always dependably present – she even typed Byron’s thesis when his arms were injured. She is the designated executor of my will and the person who will decide where the children live if they are deprived of their parents.

Beyond the pragmatic details there is also emotion. My daughter points out, correctly, that Marisa is the only person who makes me literally jump with joy. She is beloved by the entire family and has an intense and extraordinary friendship with my son.

I do not regret moving away, but I miss my friends. The fact that Marisa flew all the way across the world to help me this week is beyond amazing. I am honored to know her and have this time together.

Yesterday we went to Ely to see the Cathedral and climbed the Octagon Tower to look at the view across the Fens. We listened to a classical orchestra rehearsing for a concert in the nave. I showed her Oliver Cromwell’s house, and the place I moor when I take the boat out, and we walked through muddy fields watching rabbits hop in the distance.

We laughed and wandered. People change – she arrived with a mobile phone and laptop, something I could never have conceived of back in Chorus days, and shocked me by using the words “bluetooth” and “youtube” correctly. I am almost not recognizable as the person she met at age twenty-eight. But the friendship is as strong as ever.

Sitting at the Cutter Inn, legs splattered with mud, we watched the sun go down and the full moon rise over the River Great Ouse, talking about the past and the future.

Later, back home again, we walked out to the Jesus Green to see the lunar eclipse. My son ran in circles around us, spinning and laughing with delight.

Marisa said Wait – I’m in Cambridge looking at the dark side of the moon – I’m totally having a classic rock moment!

This week I’ve been waking before the birds to ponder assorted tricky questions. Early morning has typically been the end of my day, not the start, but the adjustment happened naturally and mysteriously. I’m enjoying the change even if it might be temporary.

Seeing something routine in a different way is fascinating.

Right now I’m bouncing around in a state of bliss because Marisa just called from the airport – she will be here in a few hours!

I love her so much even if I never use the word often enough.

Three of my friends are pregnant again, approximately eighteen years (mathematically half a lifetime, culturally an entire generation) after giving birth for the first time.

I’m thrilled for them – and I can’t wait to see and hold the infants they produce. Babies are remarkable small people. The three families are very different in terms of construction, but each will offer an amazing life to the children they produce.

The choice to have a child at any age is a serious proposition, requiring an amount of work that can never be anticipated. I respect and admire anyone who takes the challenge, particularly those who know exactly what it means.

When I look at my own children I am thankful that the years of primal need are over, that they are big and strong and independent. There will be no more babies in my life unless I become a grandparent.

I’m in awe of the fact that my friends are so hopeful and have so much love to offer. I send them congratulations and best wishes.