So it is another Friday night. Everyday that passes brings me one day closer to my daughter. Of course I don't yet know when that will be, but at least it is one day closer that it was last night.

The photo above was taken just three weeks ago today from the window where I sit typing. Much like the snow already seems a distant memory, soon this waiting period too will drift away to be replaced by the springtime of our family. Outside the window now, spring is in full swing. The daffodils that KJ and I planted two years ago along the stone walls are popping up and small clumps here and there have already bloomed. The Red Maple out the kitchen window that our wedding guests helped us plant almost six years ago now is over 20 feet tall and full of red blooms that will soon be new leaves.

At this time of early evening, as the sun sets behind the White Mountains a few miles to west in New Hampshire, the last of the days flocks of Canada Geese noisily continue their journey north, passing through the sky as sillouettes against a pallet of yellows, and reds. Down on the pond, the peepers have begun their nightly chorus, and a little later tonight, our resident pair of loons will no doubt add their own special song . I don't know where they spend their winter, but every April, the loons return to spend their summer with us and to remind us of the special place we have been able to call home these last 6 years.

Memories - is there anything more powerful, soothing, stirring, and haunting? I know for me, memories are deeply tied to images and music with music providing the chapters, and images being the page numbers within the book that is my life. I can hear a song and go back to a time and then recall an image and go back to a place, and before long the page fills in with thoughts, feelings, smells, sounds and touches. Some of these pages are filled with interactions with others, while a great many are solely my own. I revisit them perhaps more than many do, not as a way of lingering so much as a way of revisiting and, quite often, of honoring.

What will become the backdrop to our daughter's memories? Will she be a highly visual and tactile person as I am? How much of her personality will mimic that of KJ and me, and how much of it will stand in stark contrast to us? Will she be adventurous and curious? How willing and able will I be to let her become her own person, even if it is quite different than how I see myself? Do we all become our parents in the end?

So much to ponder, but then I remember that it all happens in baby steps. I mean come on, we haven't even come up with a name for her yet. Maybe, like the Daffodils and maple tree, you just plant what you like and make time to appreciate those around you like the peepers and loons, and the rest falls in place. Take Care.