Port Hope

I'm still staring at my computer and it's just about 3:30 on a Wednesday. I've been grading papers all day in the kitchen of our up north trailer while my son runs around acting like a dinosaur. Well, he's sleeping at the moment, but I'm still at it staring at this screen. Lately I've been thinking of trying to spend less time in front of screens.

My wife is beautiful. Look at her, across the table from me, looking out the window. I think she's brainstorming some new ideas for her candle and soap company. We were talking about investing in some land soon. That always comes up when we're out here in Port Hope. 

Maybe this is a 'life is good' post. Life is pretty stinking good. Yet, I buried my father's ashes a few hours ago under a memorial marker near our front porch, and I've been feeling quite surreal ever since. My mom is pretty torn apart and even she can't hide it. She tries though. She spends as much time with Salem as she can and I don't even know how we would have gotten through this without him.

One of my students just got his F-1 Visa to come study in the USA. I'm pretty excited for him. It's a massive sense of accomplishment for both of us.

I guess I can sit back and relax now. I'm working on that. Life is better when it feels like I'm narrating my own adventure, and it feels just like that right now. Yesterday I woke up at 5:25 in the morning to watch the sun from underwater. It was 47 degrees below the surface. The sun looked a very strange red without changing the color of any nearby clouds, they just stayed grey.

BUS 310 UANL

 

Afrobeat

Afrobeat inspires me to write. So does the wind that has taken control of my front door. I'm off to Mexico tomorrow morning on a very early flight, and I'm enjoying these much appreciated short trips out of the country. I'm equally appreciative of the people who helped me get this position at the university, and I'm really excited about future opportunities to work and travel.

Can you tell I just wrote an email to my boss? 

When I listen to afrobeat I'm reminded of college, specifically those days in the Trumbull house. When we first moved into that place we used to have epic drum circles just to embrace our newfound sense of freedom. You see, we used to get in trouble for that kind of thing at the Belcrest (Sid mostly). If you understood either of those places, then we are old friends and I love you. 

It feels like college but it also feels like that excitement before travel. In college I was working hard just to get through, I wasn't even sure I wanted to go to college in the first place, yet I finished with a degree in elementary education and English, and it was my ticket into the US Peace Corps. That's where this all began, this lust for wandering. Suddenly I feel quite rejuvenated just thinking about how much I like traveling the world. Maybe that's what is waking back up inside of me, something sure has. 

My Kitchen on a Monday

I really want to sit down with this post and put some thought into it. I'm in a very surreal mood, and even looking around my kitchen feels like I'm in a book or a game or something. It might be a strange moment to capture, but this is my moment and I like looking back on days like this. I'm in a weird state of pleasant uncertainty, maybe a form that I was once very accustomed to. 

I remember the days of traveling when I didn't know where I would end up or what I was getting myself into. I saw it as a goal, and my only ambition was to leave, never to actually get anywhere. Traveling has strange coincidences and idiosyncrasies around every corner. My life was once centered around traveling, and I used to hit these dark lows when I was unsure about future plans. 

There was a time that I was terrified to join the Peace Corps, not because I was afraid of being away from home, but because I thought it would never actually happen to me. I clearly remember listening to Fela Kuti in my room and feeling the struggle in his voice. I applied it to my life, although it seems so unbalanced to compare his and my experiences of life. I wanted to leave so bad, but I was failing math, and in a peculiar relationship with a very nice person. I wanted to be destructive of self (I eventually became self-destructive, which is something totally different). I wanted out.

So, this room feels surreal. As it turns out, I really like being domestic, and I'm even pausing in the middle of cleaning my house to write this. I'm happy, and I don't feel like being afraid of losing that happiness. Things have always come around for me, and perhaps with some patience I can be optimistic about this next chapter as well. Do I want to get out and travel the world again? That is still a question I can't answer at this time. I've experienced many lifetimes of travel, and for that I am eternally grateful. But, will I ever get out there again? I really don't know. 

No worries

When I was a kid, I was scared all the time. I hid it though, at least I think I did. I used to have dreams about the end of the world, or sometimes about losing my parents. School scared me, and I used to get picked on sometimes. Maybe it was the curse of being an only child, one of those blessings in disguise because it helped to form me into the person I am today. Yet, as a child I was definitely scared, and I wonder sometimes if my son is scared too.

He's getting big. He's only two and a half, but he's taller than some three year-olds, and that often confuses people. Salem is like a brand new little kid who is discovering the world through very young eyes. I love to see him explore and interact with his environment and even people around him. The other day he was pumped to get this new toy (I think it was an RV with a trailer, one that came with dinosaur bones and other archeologist things), and he was showing it to everybody in the store on the way out. I love when he does that. His voice is changing and he's developing a great way to communicate with people. God, I love that kid.

Am I still scared? I don't know.. I haven't asked myself that question in a long time. I'm happy and I'm scared to lose that happiness sometimes. I try not to live in fear, but it follows me around. Having a child makes you put your own thoughts on hold for a while, and it's only in those rare moments of laying on the floor in an empty and quiet house that you get to talk with yourself for a while. What am I doing? Am I doing a good job? I sure hope so. Maybe I am scared sometimes, but I'm working on it. Even as I write this, I begin to think of my doubts. I'm worried about my job, my health, my loved ones, etc., but here I am, keeping on keeping on. I think I'm doing a pretty good job.

Sunday Naps

Hey there, Salem

I just put you down for your nap. We read the typical dinosaur books today, but I mixed in a story about a puppy on Christmas and another nostalgic book I found. You weren't totally asleep after the dinos and puppies, so I flipped through the pages of one of those photo album books your grandfather put together. This one was called 'Salem 2022', and it really got to me today. You're growing up so fast, my guy, and somehow writing helps me to feel like I'm capturing a moment before it slips away from me. 

You fell asleep on my shoulder while we were whispering names of dinosaurs, and for a few minutes I dozed off too. In those beautiful moments I feel like we are far away in outer space, or deep in the jungle somewhere. It's just the two of us, and time stands still for a little while. 

I've always loved the passing of time. I'm not overly sad about thinking of you as a bigger version of you, because you are growing and changing every day. I can feel it in the way you talk, and I can see it in the way you play at the playground. You're generous with other children, and you are so sweet to the shy kids. It seems like you have the most beautiful personality. You make friends so easily.

Yet, here I am in this gorgeous moment, just holding you on the side of my arm while you dream of dinosaurs and monster trucks. The world is a big happy place for you with lots of curious things around every corner. You're starting to ask multiple questions about things. You remember everything, even the name of your street and your city. I can see you beginning to realize that this world is much larger than you once imagined. Believe me, it only gets bigger and bigger from here!

I just wanted to pop in and write a few words to catch this beautiful Sunday afternoon nap while I struggle to begin grading papers (or whatever it is I do, lol). Your mom and I are so proud of you, and we love being your mommy and daddy. I'm here for you, my little guy, and I will always be a part of you just as you are a part of me, and just as we are all a part of everything. Your soul and my soul are deeply and closely connected. It feels like I've known you my whole life, but only met you about three years ago when you were about to be born. Gosh, I remember the first time I saw you, and even more so the first time I saw your eyes. You have the most beautiful dark eyes. 

It seems I'm rambling again, and I'm not even sure you will ever find this. But, when you do, just know that your daddy was very happy when he wrote this. Thank you for being my son. When you were up in that cosmic void, floating around with all the others, you chose me. I'll forever be grateful for that.

Love you, my son

Dad