Day 363, Together

Listening To: The Wood Brothers Radio on Pandora

The word "together" means a great deal to me. It was what my parents weren't able to do, although they did last 27 years. It's what my kids ask for every minute of every day. When they ask me to watch them ride their bike, or show me a Lego creation, or ask me to join them in their endeavors, they are asking for togetherness. When Jenn engages me in a conversation, she's seeking togetherness. When Jenn and I hit the worst time in our marriage we found the grace, forgiveness and resolve to stay together. 

It is a hard thing to be together at times. Fundamentally it's what we want and yet it scars the crap out of us. There's nothing more frightening than being known and nothing more freeing than being known and accepted.

I had breakfast with my friend Christopher a few weeks ago at Vivace Coffee on 23rd in Portland. They make some amazing crepes. I know. I had one. And a huge cup of coffee. A bowl-sized cup of Stumptown. Oh Portland, you're my lover. Okay, Christopher, not crepes. We talked about a lot of things but what stuck out was a conversation we had about the masks we wear. Our ugliest masks are saved for those closest to us and we wondered if the turning point of every real, lasting friendship was that one person in the relationship pulled out one of those hideous masks and put it on and the other person said, "I'm still okay with you." Or, not.

Jenn and I sat at Oregon Health and Science Institute (a hospital) this weekend as Zach our 9 year old had an appendectomy. We did it all together. She met us at the hospital. She followed us in the ambulance. We wheeled him into his room, followed the orderlies to the surgery room. We. We reassured him, sent him off to surgery, went to the hospital cafeteria and ordered amazing pasta then sat on the floor in the recovery room and ate quietly together. It was a beautiful day. It was hard to see Zach in pain but the fact that we were all in it together changed everything.

This year is going to be characterized by togetherness, in all of it's beauty and difficulty and ugliness. No one wants to be lonely. I almost don't care what I do with people as long as we do it together. I'm not talking about doing drive by shootings and things of that sort. Nothing criminal. Just simple things like going on a walk together. Going through something difficult together. Watching a sunset together. Cleaning the house, doing the laundry, watching a great foreign flick, sharing a meal or even better making one...all together. If we go to some exotic place on vacation that would be amazing and very unlikely. But, if we stay together, doing the mundane things, the daily things, the things that don't seem to matter all that much, then we are living abundantly. We...together.

For Now, Wade.