Station Stop

Here is Zach's new way of trotting down the street: Run run run run run run run run STOP. "Station stop!" he'll announce, face impassive. He pauses for a minute, then says, "Beep!" and continues running. Repeat.

Here is Zach's eating strategy for Passover: Eggs? Nom nom nom. Apples? Nom nom nom. Matzoh ball soup? Nom nom nom. He looks around for more food, looking, looking, and Dave slides a plate of gefilte fish in front of him. Zach shrugs and digs in. Nom nom nom.

Here is one of Luke's latest schemes to earn money: He's making posters to advertise his new security service. Pay $25, get a bomb. Pay $200, get an army tank. "It'll help protect people," he tells me. "It will save lives. I think it will save so many lives, people will want to elect me president. But I don't want to be president. I just want to be the head money guy."

It's probably a little bit trite, but I'll say it anyway: Things are rarely boring around here. It can get ugly and even violent at times (think pounding, pinching, biting, and head-butting), but it's almost always interesting.

We just survived Luke's week of spring break, which featured, among other things, camp with puppies and reptiles (not on the same day), a trip to the science center, and an excursion to my old office (Why is this interesting for the boys? Candy in every cubicle). We celebrated Bill's landmark birthday with a huge crowd of friends and family at a restaurant on Friday. We journeyed up to the new Angels Flight on Saturday. We did our traditional Eastover celebration (egg hunt in the morning, Seder in the evening) with Dave's family. We went out to our local gourmet brew-pub to celebrate Dave's birthday. And now I need a vacation. (Kidding!) (OK, only sorta...)

Right now I am sitting on the couch while Dave is curled up with Luke and Zach on the recliner, watching YouTube space videos on the computer. I am subdued; a former colleague of mine died this week and I can't stop thinking about him. He was just an all-around good guy, maybe a little quiet to those who didn't know him well. But he lived his life almost entirely at work, for all we knew. He had no spouse, no siblings, no kids... and though he was well-liked and could have certainly had a life surrounded by people, he for whatever reason spent most of his life alone. And sadly, that's how he died in the hospital on Wednesday.

For me, this is almost entirely too hard to comprehend. I lived alone for a year or two, and while I enjoyed it, I also had times when I craved any kind of human contact. Somehow I managed to cure that feeling to the extreme. These days, even if I'm doing something ostensibly private like taking a shower, there's almost always some small person wandering in the door looking for me. Life is messier this way, but it's definitely the way I prefer it.

So I don't know if my colleague was happy with the way things were in his life -- if he had chosen to be alone or if he had simply become resigned to it. But looking at him through my (admittedly skewed) prism, it seems almost incomprehensibly sad. I feel better knowing that he is in a peaceful place now. And again, although it sounds trite, it's the kind of thing that makes me want to give the kids a little extra attention and a few extra hugs, because I need and want that kind of contact, and I hope they continue to need and want it too.