Sadly, due to overwhelming comment spam, readers of songlines won’t be able to post comments on the blog. If I can figure out a way to avoid getting 78 phony comments about on-line gambling, I will re-open comments.
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Abe,
You have several toys now that you enjoy chewing on. Most crinkle and squeak and are vibrant colors, including your favorite fabric bug we named Beverly. But nothing has rocked your world quite like the plastic orange beetlebug toy that your Aunt Betty has. It winds up and races around, pausing occasionally to flip over and change directions. The first time it bolted across the counter, buzzing and flipping, you literally vibrated in my arms. Today we played with it on the floor and you were intent on catching it, a tricky thing considering how fast it moves and how new your arms and hands still are. When you finally succeeded in wrapping your thick fingers around it, you immediately popped it in your mouth.

Today we visited with Reid and Cathy and drove endless loops in Asheville neighborhoods looking for a new place to call home. The twisting, turning side streets lulled you to sleep. You are the calm center of our chaotic world right now and I’m grateful for that. The afternoon family naps are a sweet reminder that home is where we are together.

Pa-

Abraham,
Thursday was a difficult day. Your Mom and I turned the house inside out, as we made ready for a late night departure. You knew things were awry and missed your routines and bedtime. At ten we left for the airport, already exhausted, the journey not yet begun.

Too many bags, and yet not even half of the stuff we would need. I toured the new job site today and even in my long johns I was frozen. When I checked the Asheville weather last week it was 77 and sunny. Today it was 35 and rainy and snowy with bouts of hail. I wouldn’t trade it for fluorescent lights, but I would have liked five more layers.

Long lines in the Portland airport, but you seemed to be sensing the adventure. You just looked around and took it all in, curious about the glowy signs advertising golf and business.

You didn’t cry once, or even seem bothered by the strange air and movement of flying. I admire you, your calmness, your curiosity, your sweet wonder.

Chicago’s O’Hare airport, 5:00 a.m.

You slept soundly on both legs of the flight, pressed close to your mother’s breast. You have legions of fans amongst the flight attendants of United Airlines.

We arrived to Charlotte in the morning and spent most of the day in bed. It was warm and sunny and dinner at the mall’s food court seemed like a luxury to me.

Charlotte, one very long day later.

We are now tucked away in the attic apartment of a good friend in Asheville. It’s a cozy place, littered with the contents of our bags and Betty’s plants and quilts. It feels good to be here. I cannot spend enough time in bed, though there are too many things to do.

You are in your element here. You have been dog-kissed and tasted home-made apple sauce. You’ve watched college hoops on TV and have ridden on real rocking chairs.

I would say welcome home, but it becomes clearer and clearer to me everyday, that wherever we are together as a family, we are home. So I guess I can say it after all, welcome home.

You sleep now, on the other side of a make-do flannel wall. I will join you soon. We will all be home in a mountain of comforters and blankets.

Pa-

It was one year ago yesterday, on your Mom’s birthday, that we started this story together. I have not been as diligent as I would have liked; there are too many stories that slide by. But I am a firm believer that living life is more important than reporting on it. Your songlines will always be sung, whether they reach these pages or not.

Here you are, in two pictures taken roughly a year apart. The first is a portrait in sound, the first image to grace songlines. The second was taken late in the evening of your Mom’s birthday party this past Saturday.

I am a grateful witness to your life.

pa-

Abraham,
You are our guiding light these days. You are endlessly bright and ready for the world, a good role model as we swim through a thick soup of tasks and details. In two days time we will board an airplane and no longer call Portland home. It is a sad parting, as there are magical people here. But we are a blessed family, and we move from magic to magic. In Asheville you will meet the community that married your Mom and me. We will be closer to family. Your Dad will work with stone and finish his next novel. Your Mom will make art and finish her book about teaching art. Your cousins Matthew, Henry and Grace will come to pick apples in the fall. We’ll go play in waves at Huntington Beach. Graham will come visit and marvel at how much you’ve grown. It’s all good.

Everyday you learn new things. Right now, the funniest thing in the world is when your Mom gets real close to you and speaks Thai. She says, “Ba-ba bo-bo, mahk-mahk,” which means “very crazy” and you giggle. You have started rolling over, from your belly to your back. I can’t say if it’s all intentional or not; sometimes it seems like you lean your head to one side and the momentum carries you right over. You’re very philosophical about it though, you just lay on your back, smile at us, maybe suck on a finger or two. You are happy wherever you are.

As I said, you are a guiding light. And a good role model.

Pa-