Spring Break

I’m 43 years old now.  It just occurred to me.  Funny how you feel completely defined by your age when you’re 10 or 11, and then when you’re 43 it just doesn’t mean much anymore.  You’re out on the open sea with no land in sight, and no visible transition from one year to the next.

But I remember this day last year, the day Spring Break began.  I remember it because I wrote about it, and because it was a bad day.  I came home from school and immediately had to break up an intense fight between Peter and Joseph.  So we’re doing better this year.  We’re doing much better in many ways, and not just because I happened to walk in the door after work during a peaceful moment in the Langley household.

This year we have the quandary of indecision behind us.  We know where we’re going, literally and metaphorically and philosophically and well, anyway.  We’re moving to Fresno.  We’re deciding to be there, after decades during which we seemed to end up there periodically but hadn’t really decided to be there.  Now we’re deciding.  We are metaphorically embracing the messiness of life, the trash in the canal beds, the graffiti on the walls, the 100 degrees-ness of life.  It isn’t perfect, no.  But we will not run away from it.

So my plans for spring break :  well, cleaning things.  Because the literal messiness of life is really getting on my nerves.  Give things away, anything that isn’t nailed down.  Well, not really.  But anything we don’t really use or want.  Because giving things away is better than packing.  Get the boys outside as much as possible.  Play guitar.  Help Peter write a persuasive essay about who is to blame for the death of Romeo and Juliet.  Eat chocolate.  (I’ll really need that after the essay thing).

Oh, and help Silas put together a professional wardrobe.  Because he has to be professional soon.  He’s going to some academic conferences and other such professional professorly type things that require more than his usual turtleneck and sweater.  (Though he looks very handsome in turtlenecks and sweaters, and very professorly, if I may say so, and I think neck ties are dumb, but you have to do what you have to do.)


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