My sister recently gave birth. It was her second—this time a girl; small, beautiful, long fingered. Upon visiting her in the hospital, I was reminded of how delicate a newborn is. Also, in this post, I digress slightly on the topic of grocery shopping at Harris Teeter with my son Henry
Now more than ever, my hometown of Phenix, Virginia, carries with it ghosts. The ghosts of my childhood. Almost fourteen years ago, I wrote these very lines.
It was a path we’d never walked before, its dirt worn trail barely visible on the other side of the lake amongst the pines and oaks. Prior to our entrance, my son crouched down and plucked a bright yellow dandelion from its stem and twirled it between his fingers.
“For mommy,” he informed me.
There are times when my mind is at peace, when the anxiety is kept at bay — when all is calm and clear. I walk without worry or distraction. During these moments, I often wonder: is this how someone without anxiety feels on a usual basis?
Four years ago today, my son Henry came into the world. It was a rather spectacular entrance being that the attending nurse and doctor for my wife had just left and gone upstairs to eat lunch when my wife looked at me and said, “He’s coming.”