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By Charles
Things that mean “I love you”
A kiss from my wife.
My daughter clinging to my leg like it is a tree.
My dad making sure I checked my oil and tire pressure before a road trip.
My son asking me if I want to play Minecraft with him.
My joking exchanges with my younger brother that we both know line for line but that still make us smile.
My mom giving me an out-of-print board game that I mentioned in passing
and she tracked down at a thrift store across town.
My phone buzzing with text from my mother-in-law on a random
Wednesday morning that reads “I hope you’re having a good day!”
My sister dropping off a care package on my doorstep when I am sick
with my favorite snacks and activities for the kids.
My older brother dropping 72 new memes into our group chat at 2:12 am.
My father-in-law slapping a palm against my shoulder as we get ready to
leave the farm and grumbling, “You take care of ‘em.”
Holiday cards in the mail with little vignettes of life from the year.
“See ya later” instead of “Goodbye.”
Family.
By Charles
Things that mean “I love you”
A kiss from my wife.
My daughter clinging to my leg like it is a tree.
My dad making sure I checked my oil and tire pressure before a road trip.
My son asking me if I want to play Minecraft with him.
My joking exchanges with my younger brother that we both know line for line but that still make us smile.
My mom giving me an out-of-print board game that I mentioned in passing
and she tracked down at a thrift store across town.
My phone buzzing with text from my mother-in-law on a random
Wednesday morning that reads “I hope you’re having a good day!”
My sister dropping off a care package on my doorstep when I am sick
with my favorite snacks and activities for the kids.
My older brother dropping 72 new memes into our group chat at 2:12 am.
My father-in-law slapping a palm against my shoulder as we get ready to
leave the farm and grumbling, “You take care of ‘em.”
Holiday cards in the mail with little vignettes of life from the year.
“See ya later” instead of “Goodbye.”
Family.
By Emily Amstutz
“No push-ups in the bathtub!” my mom yelled at my 4-year-old brother, Spencer. Why he was doing push-ups in the bathtub was a mystery to the rest of us children. My brother, Chap, age 9, ran into the bathroom to get a closer look at Spencer's antics and hurriedly joined the workout routine from the tub sidelines. Elouise, my younger sister by two years, caught my eye and we burst out laughing. Our pre-teen selves simply couldn't comprehend the absolute absurdity of the situation, and we fell to the floor in a fit of giggles.
My mother, a kind-hearted yet often overworked woman, cracked a smile, and we watched as her decorum shattered and laughter spilled out in glorious peals. The volume of our laughter rose to an ear-shattering pitch when Spencer attempted a handstand, lost his balance, and fell into the bathtub with a 'plop' that splashed the four non-bathing members of the family with bathwater.
Damp and out of breath, we slowly wiped the tears from our eyes and helped little Spencer out of the tub. Our hair wet, our hearts full, and our family a little bit closer than before.
To this day, we still yell, “No push-ups in the bathtub!” at family events, and it never ceases to cause hearty laughter and a few happy tears.
“What you don't eat gets rubbed in your hair” has been a part of my family's lexicon for as long as I can remember. Where did this saying come from? Why do we still say it? What are things your family says and what do those things tell us about you?
By Anna
Spring is never silent. It may seem quiet at first as soft breezes rustle through new and tender leaves. It extends like a good morning stretch, reaching out as shooting stalks. Then come the geese. Then comes the thunder.
Spring is the rude awakening of sunlight streaming in through the windows. Accompanying those harsh rays is, of course, the chirp of a cheeky bird right outside said windows. Just as good bread needs to rest for a glorious rise, so too do you. Though the world outside seems to think you’re over-proofed.
Spring is well-loved; she brings many gifts. She courts away the chill of Winter until even the ground itself softens. Spring’s hourglass ends the icy stasis that holds the world still. She invites all colors to court through various fleeting, fragrant flowers. Spring puts all manner of magic into the air: motes, pollen, seeds, and spores.
Spring is fickle and cruel. She’ll never tell you her plans, instead coming and going as she pleases. She’ll play all manner of jokes on you, from tickling your nose to painting your car yellow and green.
Spring comes unannounced. When Spring is in the air, she wears many faces. When she glides down the mountainside, you may recognize her as Landslide or Flash Flood. Across the plains she is known by Derecho or Tornado. More common are her other aliases like Hail and Snap Freeze.
When Spring introduces you to Summer, she is all but forgotten. Summer is brighter and bolder – but don’t tell Spring that you said she is better. Summer is ample without anger, hotter without hubris, plentiful without pouting, sumptuous without spite. Summer enjoys a long reign, but for now Spring is the May Queen.
By Maeve Webb
Spring is a time of rebirth, a time of rising from the melting snow like a mossy phoenix as the Northern Hemisphere begins to bloom with possibility again. Baby birds learn to sing in the trees and spread their wings for the first time. I love to hear the sound of crickets after a winter of just plain snow. For a small moment, I even welcome back the wasps as they zip through the sky again. Spring is a time for life, after all.
By Charles
I have to get this out of the way up front: Spring is the second worst season of the year.
True, it is not as bad a summer, but it is always a harbinger of doom; the onset of some of my least favorite parts of the year.
-Allergies. If you have them, you know, and if you don’t then consider yourself blessed. Living in a constant self-medicated state and wondering when it will be safe to walk out the door without feeling my throat instantly turn into sandpaper is one of the signs that spring has arrived.
-Mowing. It’s loud and dirty and kicks up the aforementioned allergies. The weather also has to be just right at the right time when you are available to mow, or you have to hack through a forest of grass a week later when you finally are free again.
-Heat. While not a constant oppressive force yet like the latter parts of July and the month of August, the pleasant sweater weather and snuggly pajamas while sipping hot tea are gone and replaced by a constant sense of everything being slightly warmer than I am ready for it to be.
I am not just a curmudgeon though. Spring does have a primordial surge of energy that I can’t help but appreciate. For example, a lazy spring weekend always feels like fishing time and I often am tempted to cast out a line and see what bites (despite my intense displeasure for touching both worms and fish). It also is a time for the neighborhood critters to have their next generation, and while I am a little skittish about squirrels, seeing a baby bunny hopping around the yard is heart-melting.
So I try to grab some of these fleeting moments: A puffy white tail hopping madly back to its warren, my kids running free and wild in a game of tag, the sunset across the lake. I hold them close as mental armor to cool me off through the trials of summer, until October when I can once again pull out my lightweight jackets and pumpkin spice, and live again.
Springtime. Warmth returning. Rain falling. Flowers budding. Spring is a time of renewal and new growth. Talk to us about this glorious green season. What about Spring excites you? What do you look forward to? Or is Spring your least favorite time of year?
By Charles
I consider myself a member of many communities. I am a musician and a gamer; a father and a son; a midwestern boy with established roots in Kansas soil. All of these and more contribute to my sense of self and shape the communities I find myself in.
I also am a naturally reticent person. I express my feelings in the written word, but in person I struggle to overcome the oppressive weight of social anxiety and am constantly trying to read non-verbal cues to know how I should mold myself to avoid rejection.
As I grew up, I developed routines; habits that helped me fit in. I even led groups in my communities: a section leader in band and a community organizer for the local game store. I felt more comfortable. No second-guessing interactions, just going from task to task and day to day with a plan for it all.
COVID-19
The disease that broke routines. It made me question why I was doing the things I was doing. Was I really interacting? Was I part of a community or just going through motions engrained bone deep in my consciousness? How do I fill my days, and if I don’t fill them to the top and pour on a dose of podcasts to fill the gaps, how do I sit with it? The silence.
Standing still.
Three years in and life has ramped up again. I am reconnecting with friends and family. I am volunteering in a jazz band and attending conventions. I am taking family outings and smiling at neighbors at the annual summer cookout.
Am I connected? Am I engaged? Have I just replaced old habits with new? Switched around the routines and convinced myself that this is really what I like? That this is my community?
Who can say?