A new addition to the family

A lot has happened this past week:

I’m still getting caught up from my three-week cycling vacation along the Rhine River, plus immediately going back to work. Now, add—the new baby.

Remy Winslow Garvey arrived 11/3 at 9:52 at 6 pounds 7 ounces.

All at once he looks like his big brother Jack and all his own with dark hair and dark eyes. I’m still getting used to him. Then I had a birthday, supposedly a big one. Sixty-five.

Again, I don’t know how to feel; it’s all happening around me and to me, but inside I’m an observer, trying to get a handle on the present and possibly the future. Yesterday was the first chance I had to take a step away from family since I got back. I ride my bike to a beautifully wooded area and walked the leaf-laden hills. The weather was gorgeous and there’s still some color in the trees. Overhead were birds. I crunch-crunched along, just thinking. Asking myself: Do you feel sixty-five?

Not really.

We’re never certain of anything—except death, and, I reasoned that for the rest of my life me and Remy will share birthdays only a few days apart. We’ll always have this, and I’ll have the memory of his birth—the rush to the hospital, the scary parts, the joy of holding him, and then that feeling of going over a cliff.

Into the unseen.

I cannot look into the future or know how long I’ve got to enjoy birthdays with him or see both boys grow into young men or help my daughter navigate life’s issues. Yet, here we are with the sun and patchy blue skies, with the leaves and keening blue jays—walking into the day and the next, and then the one after that.