Expect

Jonah's last day of kindergarten is tomorrow, but I snapped the photo yesterday when I had the chance. He and Rach on the top step, dressed similarly to the way they were 10 months ago. 

I think everyone must get a little misty eyed when they send their first kid to school. It's a big step. 

But when I took that September photo, I was thinking about how it would be the first in a long series - and that our June photo would include a chubby cheeked 8 month old girl, with shiny hazel eyes.

Instead, the second photo is just two. Jonah is wearing loud, mismatched socks. Narrower cheeks, more big boy scowl. Rachel in tie dye, her hair missing the sun-kissed blonde streaks.

I want Sarah to be there, in that photo. To be part of the memories that grow.

The story of Sam

Having a hard day. We're bringing my 15 year old cat, Sam, to the vet this morning to be put down. Arthritis, kidney failure, and a tumor in her neck that is starting to obstruct her airway and ability to eat. The vet said she would begin to suffocate soon, and that its not at all peaceful.

Samantha and her brother, Duckie, were found on a farm, likely dumped. I had just started grad school and needed someone soft and fuzzy to cuddle. I called the local vet's office, and they hooked me up with the farmers who had found this duo. A calico and an orange tiger. Sam was named quickly after she would just flop backwards in my arms, spreading her front legs like an eagle. Samantha Eagle, ala the Muppets.  Duckie was shy (later realizing he was feral) and would actually "duck" an incoming hand to avoid being touched. They set the trend for all of our future cats to be named after birds.

Sam has had a good life. Her purr sounds like marbles rolling around in her throat. I can cluck and she perks up immediately, looking for me. She had her own pillow, next to mine, to sleep on. And occasionally, I would sleep on my side and I'd find her perched, up on my hip, balancing precariously. 

I love you Sam.

Jingle

Last spring I ordered a necklace for my husband. I had seen an Etsy artist who made dog tags with stamped names of children on it. It was perfect for my dude.

When I contacted her, I knew that two of the tags would read Jonah and Rachel, but I wanted to be sure that she could make me a third one in October, once we had chosen our next child's name. She assured me that it was an easy add-on.

Since Sarah died, I've thought often about that necklace. Joe had taken it off; it was in a drawer, curled up onto itself. I asked him the other day - do you still like it? Do you want to add Sarah's name?  And of course, he said yes. That just wearing two names just didn't feel right.

So I placed an order for that third tag today. Since I had to convo it on Etsy, it was easy to find the same vendor. And our previous back-and-forth about the details of the present.  I kept my message to her short and direct about the new tag order. And of course, she offered me her congratulations and shared her latest baby news. I almost let it pass. But then I realized that I didn't want to miss the opportunity to let her know how special the tag was - the one she was going to create for us. Because we had a third child. It's just that she died.