I wanted to write one last time in 2013. I started to in line at the post office today, by hand, scrawled into the back of a literary journal. But I just don't have the energy to transcribe it here now, or finish what I started to say. I like to go to bed sometimes before midnight on New Year's Eve, like diving under a wave, going to sleep in one year and waking up in the next. But I'm running out of time to do that. Alex has Anderson Cooper chattering on in the background. The children are nestled all snug in their beds -- different holiday, but here, the same quiet house. Just a mile away a million people are gathered to watch the ball drop. Listen to this song. Be safe. Happy New Year. (The answer to the song is yes.)


  1. Happy New Year ... I see you waiting in line writing in that little book. Take a macro photo of it..and upload, no transcribing necessary. As you must know the good news is that fed babies eventually start sleeping longer and this intense time of mothering won't last forever...unlike the punishment of rolling rocks eternally hill...so may you take heart and enjoy the mysteries of the night.

  2. Thank you Jeanette. That is so immensely encouraging and poetic, too, as is always the case with your comments.


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