A Tall Girl's Adventures in a Tiny World

We said goodbye to my grandfather yesterday. I sat on the edge of the dock as we scattered his ashes on the bay -- from the very spot where Grampa and I caught a bucket full of crabs and promptly tossed them back because we didn’t like to eat them -- and memories from my childhood flooded over me. Grampa was part of so many moments of my life, present for all the biggest, most important times. It was so difficult to watch his rapid decline in recent years because he was larger than life when I was a child; a visit to Bellport was a trip into his kingdom. Everyone knew Dick Stock. He was a teacher and principal, a volunteer fireman and ambulance driver, member of the Hearth Club and local Methodist Church, library trustee, fix-it guy, fence painter, builder. We would walk through that town and I felt a special sense of pride at being his granddaughter. But as a child I often felt nervous around my Grampa. He was a stern man, a Navy man. He was raised during the Great Depression, came of...

My son is training for a long, profitable career as a stunt man. Pretty typical kid stuff, I think, but for a newbie mom like me, it can be scary: He loves to jump off the fourth step; throw himself on the tile floor in the kitchen and pretend he's swimming; see how much air he can grab while jumping on our bed like it's a freakin' Moon Bounce. Lately he likes to bounce his little body off of anything he can and ricochet as far as possible, until he bounces into something else...and something else...until he falls down giggling...or crying. Picture a 4-foot, 55-pound pinball with limbs, and you'll get the drift. In his latest pinball impression this morning, Sweet Boy leaped off my bed, bounced himself off my backside, then into the side of the bed. Only he misjudged where the side of the bed was, and he instead landed on his butt...and his elbow...and his head. On the hardwood floor. First, I'm embarrassed to admit, I yelled at him (I'm a yeller , as maybe you...

Today is my man's birthday. This is the 12th birthday I've celebrated with him, and he's not one to ask for a whole lot of hullabaloo. As he would say, birthdays happen every year. Maybe so, but when I started thinking about it this morning, I realized what an awful lot we've been through since his last birthday. And I was instantly awed and grateful to have this birthday to celebrate with my sweetie. In this past year he's shown me time and again why I chose to spend my life with him. I have watched him conquer major health issues and come out stronger and healthier. He works so hard and endures a ridiculous commute, but he busts his butt to be home with us in the evenings. He is an amazing father, playful, wise, and stern in equal parts; his patience is far greater than mine. He shares household tasks (even writes cute little chores lists for himself) -- and I even overheard him say to our neighbor once this spring "It's a great day for yard work, isn...