suddenly it’s all different. suddenly, walking past other people’s tiny children makes you wistful. suddenly, in what seems like a very few split-seconds, your own formerly-tiny children are all grown-up. and the nest is empty. what’s next, you wonder. possibly a parakeet?
*****
read DAVID’S thoughts this SMACK-DAB SATURDAY
SMACK-DAB ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com
the family photo changes through the years. i read the other day that it was a friend’s 39th wedding anniversary and noted that it would have also been mine. but things change and times change and the family photo changes. i am grateful for the years before and i am grateful for the years now. both. either way, both family photos have similarities. one would show a middle-aged couple, empty-nesters, looking to get to know each other again. the other shows a middle-aged couple, empty-nesters, getting to know each other in the first place. a common thread – that getting-to-know-each-other – it is all fodder for much laughter, many foibles, much self-deprecation, many questions, few answers, and a lot of punting on the journey through aging smack-dab in the middle of life.
it became obvious to us that our roadtrip together, the-second-time-around-roadtrip, was a source of humor and a reason for lightheartedness. there is simply no other way to look at it. this is not the stuff of princess and prince, nor the stuff of harlequin romance novels, where the boy-who-inherited-the-kingdom finds the bereft-girl-quietly-sitting-in-the-shadows. it is not the stuff of ease nor the stuff of perfectly-smooth-trails. but it is the stuff of happily-every-after, just like so many other stories smack-dab in the middle of middle age as couples navigate through change and challenge, glee and sadness. we are just like everyone else. and our story is your story, with a few different details.
and so we thought it might be fun to celebrate being smack-dab in the middle, to raise up the questions of being there and the elation of being there, to poke fun at the confusion of revisiting the beginning of romance – so many years ago – or the actual beginning of romance – just a few years ago or, maybe, right now. to look at each other through fresh eyes, a fresh horizon. to notice, to hear, to see, to intuit each other. to dance in the too-empty and too-neat kitchen. to make noise in the too-quiet house. to make plans and dream dreams, even ones that are different than we imagined.
ours is a story of second chances. but so is the story of my friend and her husband of 39 years. and the story of the dear young man who used to be in my choir class in the 80s, now married to his husband for years. all of us have second chances each day. to sit across the table and gaze back at eyes we have known for ages, eyes we are in the middle of knowing, eyes we are just beginning to know. to laugh together and lift each other from wistful moments. to understand and hold each other with compassion our guide. to listen and discern what we each are saying, what we each need. to step into futures of unknown voyages. we live smack-dab in the middle of the middle, holding hands, loving each other in old and new ways. and cherishing every photograph along the way.
smack-dab. in the middle. a new cartoon.
*****
read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY
SMACK-DAB ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com
commentary: i mean, seriously, how can you brush your teeth withOUT suds??? i’m certain that the crest toothpaste people would be proud. i have nothing else to say. i’m not going to justify this or defend it. i’m just going to sit smack-dab in the middle of it. love, kerri. xoxo
SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com
smack-dab in the middle of the night. like every night. i lay awake listening to the peaceful, gently-breathing sighs and sounds of him sleeping. sleeping! the gall!
and so, smack-dab in the middle of the night, i wake him up. since, smack-dab in middle-age, we decided to share our lives, it only seems right that we share our non-sleep moments as well as our sleep moments.
we are not alone. it would seem, especially in these times, that there is a lot – a hell of a lot – of insomnia going on. it is likely i could, should i choose to, have a texting conversation with most of my friends in the wee hours. we’d all be completely and utterly awake, completely and utterly coherent. perhaps more coherent in the wee-wee hours than in the day, when we are weary from the night.
when one lays awake at night and ponders all of life, one uses up much energy. and thus, i get hungry. and not just a little. in the ‘olden days’ (read: when we first married) we used to get up and make pancakes. there is nothing like midnight pancakes to soothe the weary soul. but we have cut to the chase these days and choose, instead, a shortcut to satisfying midnight hunger pangs. and so i poke at his shoulder and ask, “youwannabanana?”
post-banana we sit, happy lights turned low, and chat. there are no real rules to this. sometimes we watch a trail and joey coconato ultimately tucks us back in to sleep. sometimes ‘grace and frankie’ make a middle-of-the-night cameo appearance. eventually, and it’s heavy on the eventual, we settle back in and sometimes i end up snoozing in-between hot flashes and heaving blankets and pulling blankets up and moving pillows and removing pillows. it’s exhausting. but somehow, it is not sleep-inducing.
i don’t know much. but i do know this: we’re smack-dab in the middle of middle-age. and by golly, we are going to celebrate THAT.
*****
read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY** – as we introduce SMACK-DAB
SMACK-DAB ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com
** and, by the way, i don’t REALLY “guffaw”.
inosculate: join by intertwining or fitting closely together. “inosculation is a natural phenomenon in which trunks, branches or roots of two trees grow together. it is biologically similar to grafting and such trees are referred to in forestry as gemels, from the latin word meaning “a pair”.” (wikipedia)
tomorrow is the sixth anniversary of my sweet momma leaving this earth. there is not a day that goes by that i do not think of her, miss her, wish i could call her, have questions to ask her. in the way that we all wish on stars, i wish i could have more time with her.
momma lived three years past my dad’s passing. in the very days before he died, he knew that his dying was imminent. i walked into his hospital room and he told me he was ready. i, however, was not. neither was my momma. she was seriously infuriated at him. they had been married – at that time – for 68 years. 68. i haven’t even lived that long yet, and they were together for longer. in every way imaginable, they were, like these trees in the woods, inosculated. a pair.
inosculate: to unite intimately.
my parents had simple routines in their later years. coffee and breakfast. making the bed. reading the paper. coffee break. a few errands perhaps. lunch. my poppo doing a little work at his workbench or in the garden while my mom worked at her desk. sitting and gazing at the waterfowl behind their house. maybe a little snack in the afternoon. reading. dinner. nothing stupendous. nothing extraordinary. but most definitely inosculated.
though i’m sure they drove each other a bit crazy at times (who doesn’t?), in these later years, particularly, they fit together like these trees. sharing responsibilities for the day-to-day. carefully mindful of each other’s health concerns. re-telling old stories. looking forward to any time they would see their family. grateful for this home bathed in sunlight and surrounded by green.
they were indeed “gemel trees”, sharing deep root systems, with prolonged contact, fusing together. and, in the end, their love was no longer complex. it just was.
when we passed these trees off-trail, i wondered about them. i’m not absolutely certain where their connections are and if they are prime examples of inosculation, but they are indeed living in community, united. they somehow rely on each other, sharing nutrients and sun and dirt-space on this earth.
and, once again, here in the forest, i can see the simple example set for humans. the same one my sweet parents set.
*****
read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY
we bought it on our honeymoon. we knew, even by then, that we would need this sign’s lighthearted truth to remind us – some days – of what we even liked about each other. in these days of isolation it’s front and center.
these are profoundly difficult times. without the balance of getting out or having a little space, we are all finding ourselves in close isolation with the others in our home. we two, here, are often together 24/7. we work together in a variety of capacities, so we have gotten a little more accustomed to the dynamics than, say, some of you who have been thrown into the deep end with no feathering of getting-used-to-the-water time. but…that doesn’t mean it’s always pretty. so we are all here, separately together, figuring it out.
we wonder about the future. we worry. we stew. we get excited. we get scared. we get weary.
the stress level is palpable. you can feel the world out-there functioning at a completely different frequency than it had been. it is like that high pitch in your ears, making you teeter on yelling, “make it stop”. we all try to go with the flow, try to make the best of it. we are fortunate to be here together, at home, in a safe place. we seek ways to stay relevant and do meaningful work. we follow stay-at-home orders. we reach out to visit, virtually, with our family and friends. we video-conference with colleagues. we wear leggings and sweatpants on a daily basis. my boy, in a city with ever-exponentially-growing-covid-19-numbers, said that’s a given – sweats, sweats, sweats and the perfunctory button-down shirt. we know what’s visible and what’s not. we desperately hope for the best. we get in each other’s way. we help each other. we brainstorm new ways to cope, new ways to work, some with steep learning curves. we sigh. we take naps, tired and wrung out. all are true.
we wonder about the future. we worry. we stew. we get excited. we get scared. we get weary.
and we try to stay in touch. we desperately miss our children, our family, our friends, the people in our day-to-day life route.
even in times of ‘normal’, if my daughter, whose home is in a covid-19 hotspot and whose work, like too many, has been decimated, texts me with no punctuation and clipped answers, i know i have either a) stepped past the edge of the chatting time limit b) asked too many questions c) said something completely too mom-ish or d) encountered her at a time she needs space for herself. no matter which option, it’s smart (and in my best interest) to back up. she, just like my son, knows she is loved beyond words and i know that, in order for me to stay loved, or, er, tolerated, i need to utter less painintheass words. but i am their mom and it is an intrinsic part of my job.
we wonder about the future. we worry. we stew. we get excited. we get scared. we get weary.
if david, the other artist in my two-artist-household equation, mentions an idea to me, i dig under the idea pile of leaves to find the base of it – to order the details of what the idea means, to parse it out. i can’t start at the top and assume thebigidea will work. i have to see how the ingredients of the idea will work, the steps to get there. if the tiniest piece of the idea doesn’t seem plausible, i argue, how could thebigidea be possible. i don’t mean to be a bigidea killer; i just need to see the practical details. i’m sure he invokes the youareapainintheass eyeroll when i am not looking, but that’s ok. he can’t see me rolling my eyes either.
and so, we wonder about the future. we worry. we stew. we get excited. we get scared. we get weary.
in the biggest way we have seen in decades we have a challenge. to stay healthy. to keep others healthy. what we do affects you and vice-versa. we all have to be responsible. we all have to work together. we are not all favorites of each other. some of us are the biggest pains in the ass to others of us. we are learning, bending, flexing. we are finding out that we are more resilient than we thought, we are capable of negotiating the bumps in the relationship-road. we are gumby in the real world.
and we are all here. separate and together. despite our wildly differing stories, we have a common story. we are here.
and we wonder about the future. we worry. we stew. we get excited. we get scared. we get weary.
i, for one, am grateful for my absolute favorite painintheass even though he is totally a painintheass. for what would i do without him?
read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY
we are watching. two lovely young women, the daughters of dear friends, will be married this year. we will be attending each of these weddings. i will have the honor of playing at them. they are excited, immersed in the details of their ceremonies and their receptions, the times that people will gather around them and celebrate their joining of lives, of families. it is a time of immense joy for them and it’s certainly fun to be included, hearing about gowns and venues, songs and vows. they are amazed at how quickly these days are approaching. it’s that life thing. it keeps moving. faster and faster.
when my niece got married on the beach, she had her dj play instrumentals of mine as her bridal party, including me, walked across the sand. but a couple weeks ahead, when we were talking about all the tiniest details, she asked if maybe, just maybe, i could write her and her husband-to-be a song, something that would be solely hers as she walked toward him over the warm beach, bright sun low in the sky.
this is the song i wrote for them. no time to run to nashville or even chicago, i ran to a studio in town and quickly recorded it, just piano and voice, nothing fancy. i was moved to hear it broadcast over the sound of waves, watching as she walked into a new chapter of her life, directly to her best friend. and now, there’s so much more. life keeps going.
i wore a pink dress with puffy sleeves (yes, shockingly, a color) for my other sweet niece’s wedding. twice as long ago, i was touched at being included. i have watched her grow (she’s amazing!) and have watched as she and her husband have built a home together and lovingly raised their two boys. life. keeps moving on.
i recently heard from a nephew of mine after a pretty long time of silence. he sent a picture of he and his husband together and i was thrilled to see him looking so content, so in-his-life. it keeps moving.
we are at the age when many friends’ children are marrying. each time we attend a wedding or send off a gift we watch as two people decide to be together, through thick and thin. we wish them more of the best than the challenges, but we know that the challenges are also the glue.
each story is not as simple as it sounds. we know that. moving in together, whether post-wedding or no wedding at all, sharing a sink, worrying about life’s constant worries, dividing up household responsibilities, traversing family dynamics, navigating gigantic decisions, choosing which direction to put the toilet paper on the roller…life as two is both more difficult and less difficult than life as one. and, in the way of how it all works, the time of life both moves in slow motion and flies by.
it helps when you choose it with your best friend.
download the single MY BEST FRIEND on iTUNES or CDBaby
read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY
MY BEST FRIEND ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood
if there is an icon image for us, this would be it. the full image of david’s daisy painting includes language: you said, “i’ll be the one.” yes. you are.
i was the one holding the daisy. way back when now, in baggage claim, thinking he would have no idea who i was, i texted him i would be the one holding the daisy. we hadn’t ever met yet, but our backandforthandbackandforth email letters had been going on for about six months and it was time to see the face of the other half of the backandforth.
i was nervous in the airport waiting. i got there early, which, in and of itself, is a feat because i am not a way-too-early-to-the-airport person. i visited the mirror in the ladies room a number of times, checking my outfit, my hair, making sure i had no food in my teeth (linda can tell you bill t. had made me paranoid about this). the evening before, i agonized over what to wear. a nice outfit? a dress? leggings and a tunic? i ended up with my favorite old jeans, my boots and a big oversized black chenille sweater. i needed to feel like me.
the girl in the airport restroom was waiting for her fiance to return from the service; their wedding was merely two months away. she asked me who i was there to meet and i told her the (short) version of the story. she laughed and said, “ah. it’s obvious. you two will find out you are soulmates, ” which made me laugh. clearly that was silly.
i only knew his face from a tiny photo on a website. i had seen photographs of his coffee cup in various settings and his paintings (which i loved), but not his face. the identifying daisy in baggage claim – in my belief – was necessary.
that daisy was quivering when this guy with jeans, boots and a black shirt and outer jacket was walking toward me and i realized the girl in the bathroom might be right. a kind face and easy stride, he walked up to me and, laughing, we hugged. we skipped out of the airport, the daisy cheering us on.
the rest is history, as they say. there have been uphills and downhills; the roller coaster for two artists living together would challenge any six flags amusement ride. life beginning together as two grown-up adults is navigable but requires much negotiation. two people with different pasts – one of us with children, one of us without – is full of lessons and storytelling and learning curves. the smack-dab in the middle of middle age brings its own neuroticisms; the late 50s is not necessarily a time that you feel at the very apex of feeling good in your body. we pay attention to health and diet and know our time together is not the decades and decades of our parents’ times together. we try to maximize moments. and we sometimes struggle with the feeling of starting over. not the resilient twenties or thirties of our first marriages, yet starting again with much of the same arduous uphill climb.
so in the roadtrip of this life together were i to assign an icon it would be this daisy. because this daisy in the painting on our wall reminds us: i’ll be the one. yes. you are.
read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY
daisy ©️ 2012 david robinson
the sun set on another day on island. and the moon rose. who knew?
four years ago, when david walked down the aisle to this song, who knew? who knew what would come, what adventures would appear, what challenges would rear up, what tiny moments would tear up in our eyes, what heartaches would befall us? who knew? who knew what chaos would reign our world, what gentle calm would envelop us, what times with family would look like, what times without loved ones would feel like? who knew?
four years ago, when david walked down the aisle to this song, we were decades younger, starting out all over again, baby-stepping into an unknown, beguiling, mysterious future. who knew? who knew the times of decisions, of direction-choosing, of sacrifice, of abundance? who knew the dances we would dance, the cries we would cry, the pages of life filled with, well…life? who knew?
there we stood, last night, on the back porch, white happy lights glowing on the railing, watching the moon rise over our little bay, high in the sky, gigantic, tiny hog island in the distance. we wondered aloud, in wonder, about the wonderment of it all. who knew?
and now…….looking forward…..outward….onward….with great love….
download AND NOW on iTUNES or CDBaby
read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY
AND NOW ©️ 2015 kerri sherwood
this painting is magical. it is the stuff of dreams, the stuff of hope, a vision of the future, the thready sharing of life and love. it looks more to me like flying than resting and, perhaps, as the wedding gift that d gave me four years ago today, it was prophetic. with the presence of mountains and a daisy, holding hands, embracing, perhaps dancing in flight, it is what we knew then.
what we know now is so much more.
our journey, our flight, together has, in its rawest form, a newness. meeting smack-dab in the middle of middle-age has its interesting elements. not that either of us is rigid…oh, no….of COURSE not. but when you are nigh 60 years old you do have your ways of doing things. add to that the fact that we are two artists artist-ing together. sheesh! there are some lively chats in these here parts. and to feel like you are starting over again – in your middle 50s – is time-warpy. there’s a lot to learn…but i guess that’s always true.
i have to say that i have never argued as much with another person. i’m quite sure that we agree the sign we purchased on our honeymoon in the mountains of colorado says it all, “you are my favorite pain in the ass.” it goes both ways. we definitely have a full-spectrum of emotions together. we are the best at disagreeing; we are the best team together.
i’m eternally grateful for this gift. i cannot adequately put this into words, so it must suffice that – this is the man i skip with.
i have no idea where this journey with mountains and daisies will take us. we are open to the mystery as we continue this amazing flight. allways. always. magical.
read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY
AND NOW ©️ 2015 david robinson
reverse threading 