becoming a mother

I remember someone once wrote a Christmas letter that he never sent; in that letter he explained that he didn't know what to say. Christmas letters contain updates about little Johnny growing up, promotions at work, family vacations, and, as a bachelor, he had nothing to say about anything like that. Yet, here I am, well over a year later (from my last post), a wife, a mother, a teacher. There are more kids and family news to write about than I can keep up with. I've been so busy that I have not written. It is a lot like the current country song, "You're Gonna' Miss This." There is something to be said and enjoyed about every season in life. I do miss selling olive oil, dreaming of great food, of walking Ann Arbor streets in the summer time, of wine tasting every weekend in Fruita, indulging in the simplest of American deserts, the Rice Krispy Treat, in Barnes and Noble every Thursday evening and despairing over the people of Grand Junction, of my quaint, downtown apartment with the ancient plumbing and strange floor plan. Those were simpler days. But I love laughing with my husband and the squeals of delight from my daughter. I love how she will collapse with exhaustion and trust on my shoulder--it is the most peaceful time of the day.
I will try to write more often and keep in touch.