lxforever

“you are my sunshine over a field of snow / and I love to watch you g[r]ow”

—Brett Elderedge

“But if you send for me, you know I’ll come / And if you call for me, you know I’ll run / I’ll run to you, I’ll run to you, I’ll run, run, run / I’ll come to you, I’ll come to you”

—Lana Del Ray

“Will you still love me / when I’m no longer beautiful? / I know you will, I know you will / I know that you will / I know you will, I know you will / I know that you will”

—Lana Del Ray

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a loser, or a nerd, or a freak! All that matters is that you become BADASS!”

—Johnny Lawrence, Cobra Kai

“Have confidence in where you are, but give yourself room to grow.”

—barre3 instructor, 9/9/20

(me reading from the Crayons book) “ ‘Have you, Duncan? Have you ever been eaten by a dog and puked up on the living room rug?’ ” (PreK-er2) “no I have not”

—12/30/20

(me trying to get PreKer2 to hurry up with something) “Come on, I’m not here all day!” (PreK-er2, knowingly) “Yessss you are…”

—12/31/20

The picture could be the whole entry

“Do you think we should worry about this virus thing?”

“Did you see the video of the man being killed by police?”

“Why is there an American flag in the front yard?”

We were going to work, going to school, going to meetings, going on playdates, going to brunch, going to workout class, going to lunch, going to swim lessons, going to arcades, going on trips, going on waterslides, going out to dinner, going to concerts, going to rallies, going to gyms, going to pools, going to games, going to shows, going to marches and going to malls.

Then stop.

Stop and stay, stay safe if you can, between two worlds, the before and now. Between two worlds, the lucky and the not. Between two worlds, white and privileged, and everyone else.

Between two worlds, waiting for the votes to be cast.

Between two worlds, clutching a passport while kids struggle in cages.

Between two worlds, life outside a grocery store and death on the neck as breath runs out.

Between two worlds, the people who care and the family members who share memes.

Driving along 38th was a near-daily ritual in 2020, a near-straight line between two worlds of two kids, the same planet but separated only by place and age, a near-straight line between colorful privileged daycares equidistant from the home, the new office(s). A near-straight line on 38th, with just one jag south, around a memorial of a fist raised straight up high, flowers piled around, a movement sparked by Memorial Day murder.

Say his name! George Floyd. Say his name!

Between two worlds, 1865 when we solved it by ending slavery, before and after. Between two worlds, 1965 when we solved it with the Civil Rights movement, before and after. Between two worlds….and too far gone to solve it with just one year. Years and years to come.

That near-straight 38th-street line, hazy and bright in summer, darkening and Christmas-lit in winter. Nearly straight for me, just one inconvenience of a jag around the ragged edge, with a big green new park on the other side, all surrounded by safety and goodness. Jittery hands on the steering wheel as curfew approaches and Black Hawks fly overhead, wondering if this is enough or if more will burn, but nothing is begrudged. Some things are past words.

The near-straight line between smiling faces safe from disease, or at least safe enough, with their friends and computer school and “proyectos” and drawings, work turning into endless video meetings with breaks for tacos, two separate desks, faces on a screen. First grade finishing by Mommy’s side, not quite right but nothing is quite right? Maybe movement? Moving in front of a screen, in a masked class, outdoors, barre and biking and swimming, outdoors. Biking on the bridge to suburban paths as freeway cars race by, over the river. The beach! Lots of time at the beach, a short long stroller walk away with snacks and sand and deep swimming. Swimming in the little yard pool, too, brave swimmers, the shortest longest time, deep into the lake with friends or sometimes alone, to the buoys as adventurers, water as the siren song, explorers of our little few-mile radius. Covered in sand, climbing equipment, birthday cupcakes outside and ice-cream truck fiascos, touring every available park in the sun and sometimes the rain.

“Do you think we should worry about this virus thing?” Maybe? We went to the Dells anyway, it didn’t seem real and we washed their hands feverishly, no fevers. One last gasp of chlorine and cousins before it all changed. But still room for some more, three lovely road trips to see family that were even more precious for their rarity, an afternoon in a pool, a week caring for a nephew as they jumped off the top bunk, a weekend in Chicago on the big, big lake of deep, deep blue, a quiet family holiday. Surprised and lucky to see people as we did, safely, spitting into tubes with military standing by. Maybe next year we can have more.

“Did you see the video of the man being killed by police?” I did. We all did, or if we didn’t, we soon knew we should have. Rest In Power, to you and all of yours before and after you. I have been part of this failure.

“Why is there an American flag in the front yard?” A SCREAM! HE WON! “The reign of terror is over” but not a joke this time. The passports get stored away again, maybe some of this can be salvaged. We’ll see.

It has been quite a year, for everyone, and least of all for us, really. Some has changed, but not much; I spent this year of 38 on 38th and at home and around the lake, and sometimes, in other parts of the city and Midwest. I had friends and family who needed me, and I’ll run I’ll come. Because they do the same for me. There’s no school, but it turned out okay; the time in late spring was sad, but we found a solution, and I’m glad we did; it wasn’t right for her to be home alone with us, ignored. Just typing that makes me sad. I’m glad we have options.

I’m glad we have our jobs, which became more challenging and interesting at the same time; not due to location, but more to pace and time. The regular old truths. I’m glad I figured out how to leap, and I’m there now, ready to be a second-year Level 8, or something like that, just needed some more time to cook. I’m glad I like a challenge and I’m glad we like to be home anyway, video games and Barbies and books and art supplies and each other in hand. The four of us as it was always meant to be, a year born for us, for hanging out.

And more than anything, I am glad we are healthy and safe. Luck and privilege in one big package at my feet. Now what to do with that?

2021, what’s for you? Playfulness. Curiosity. More continued trusting of self, and my skill. More sharing of privilege in an organized way. Less doing of STUFF, more confidence, aka things I keep putting on the list. Less phone, more play. Less leaving the room via a screen when I can avoid it. Less judging, more forgiveness, modeling that mistakes are learning. Showing how we can care and honor our failings in that space. I could go on but I think a big part of 2021 is truly just waiting to see, in the spaces between every one of these different worlds. Give ourselves room to grow. Happy new year. Black Lives Matter!