it's him and I, the geminis

eric,

today is the tenth time I have celebrated your birthday. I remember the first one: you called because you had just gotten back in town from california. "come over," you said. "people are coming to cook out and stuff." I brought a salad and two pints of ice cream from sweet heaven. I was the only girl there with a bunch of rowdy boys. was that the night we tie dyed tshirts, too? you lived way out in candler with a garden bigger than your trailer. we laughed in a hammock together just as it was getting dark. you walked me back up the driveway to my volvo and bumped your shoulder into mine. you said that shoulder bump was the first time you knew. nine birthdays later has it turned out like you thought?

I like you so much. and so does everyone else. little old ladies at the grocery store wait to shop on days they know you'll be working. kids from the hippie woo woo school call your name across parking lots and playgrounds. we can barely walk when we go to the farmers' market because we are always stopping to talk to someone you know. and people love you with good reason. you've made this town home, drawing folks into community and into a tight-knit tribe that inspires potlucks and plantings. and you look so good in overalls.

I have never seen you as happy as you have been this spring. you are farming full-time at a place you love with people who know how valuable you are. you come home dirty and inspired every day, but frustrated you are not getting time in your own yard with jamin and cora. but I think it is worth it. I can see all you are learning, not just about plants or the business of running a farm, but also about your own priorities and what's next. you love growing food, trying new things in the garden, learning new methods to make it all happen. but you also love people and the relationships that come from feeding each other, both physically and spiritually.

 you are such a good papa. our kids love you with a kind of recklessness that I can be jealous of if I am not careful. they call you "jella," a word they made up that jamin says means "I love you so much." it is an apt title. they are learning so much from you. your willingness to take on new homesteading challenges is probably the best homeschooling tool we have. they are learning as you are learning, and you are adamant about including them in what you do. it would drive me crazy to have them in the mix in some of those farm chores, but you patiently mow the grass with cora walking between your feet and let jamin help you plant things you know you'll have to restart later. they know more about gardening than I ever will, and that is largely because you are such a patient teacher.

our life is so stinkin' good. it is easy for me to get caught up in the things I don't like or what I wish I had instead, but the life we have carved out is full of truth and beauty and light. there is magic in watching you make omelets from eggs we gathered from our yard, filled with spinach you harvested at the farm. there is joy in the room when you bust out a couple of wutang verses while you brush our children's teeth at night. you asked me a few nights ago as we were crawling into bed when we would stop sleeping with our bodies touching. "when do people stop snuggling?" you wondered. not yet, not at the ten birthday mark is all I know to tell you.


so happy birthday, e-rock. I love you so so much. I think about how different that love looks today than it did all those birthdays ago, and I am so thankful that every adventure has brought us exactly where we are. there is no one else that I'd rather be trailblazing with.

 here is my song for you. it is still true, every word.

love and balance and compost,

slick