Most week days, Michael and Hyla bundle into the car together around 8.15 in the morning and head off for school and then work. Gryfe and I stand at the door and wave to them until the car leaves, then I get my tea and we go downstairs to my office. I sit down at my desk, and Gryfe settles into his dog bed beside me to begin his daily work of chewing on a toy before passing out for his two-hour nap.
This morning started with torrential rain, and then the valley filled with fog and a steady drizzle. It felt dreary and cold and like a good day to stay under the covers with a good book. But I had a lot of work to do.
I tuned the radio to NPR, looked out my window to the bleak November view, and then this StoryCorp story, told by Gregg Korbon and his wife Kathryn, came on the air.
Maybe it was the moody weather, or the fact that Brian was just a little kid, or the detail about the note he left on his door (as the mother of a note writer, this really struck a chord), or just the reminder of how quickly things you think are forever can go away, or my sympathy for his parents. Or all of that.
Whatever it was, it made me so completely sad for a time, and then so overwhelmingly grateful for my family, my healthy little girl, my mug of tea, my work before me, my dreary view of November hills.