We sit by the river and watch the ducks explore their surroundings. We clearly are the intruders. There’s an ease to their waddling. A few steps, chest peck, look around, rest. I choose to let the ducks slow down my mind—mostly because I can’t decide on a single slice tonight, and knowing the end of the challenge is a few hours away reminds me of my odd relationship with endings.
We sit there, the three of us just being, and I wonder if this is what I want to write about. My mind replays my day with a new lens, and many moments feel worthy of a post. I see brightness in all these slices of life. I think about us, the ducks, and how I don’t need to choose just one tonight.
Elena, let’s “George this up” and write about three moments:
Writing in Company
I left you with Dad to facilitate a writing activity with some moms from a group I’m a part of. Five of us gathered around a colorful pop art table, and we talked like we had known each other for years. There were no filters or barriers, just all the vulnerability and courage Brené Brown describes so well. I guided them to write about people in their lives, moments, or places they’ve been to, just like I do with students, and they did so beautifully.
I sat there, admiring the elegant movement of their pens as they poured their hearts onto paper, and I thought about what this challenge did for me. It started as a gift to you, but it also reminded me how much I need a community to love writing the way I do. This challenge was also a gift for me.
Pink
Dada put you to sleep, and I sat down to start today’s late post. I turned the speaker on and returned to Ben’s gentleness to embrace me this evening. I need soft, calm, and rest. I wrote a paragraph and then felt the urge to look out the window. I did just as the downtown buildings reflected the sunset at me in shades of orange and yellow. It reminded me of Denise’s poem. The sky seemed to be covered in cake frosting, a whipped mix of blue and pink that kept me frozen in time. Elena, let’s make watching sunsets together a thing, yeah?
“Dada”
It was your first word. I looked it up, and when a baby says something consistently and with meaning, it’s considered an actual word. And girl, Dada is the first thing you say when you’re ready to engage with the world after waking up. You sit up after your bottle and stare into my eyes; we sometimes bump heads, and then you look into the hallway and call for him, wondering if he’ll come to greet you soon.
I read Amy’s post, and it stirred up some things. I won’t go into details in this letter, but letting my words help me process felt important. I never had what she has, and even at 38 years old, I feel like I’m missing out on something I’ll never get. But when I hear you say Dada, my sadness turns to curiosity, and I wonder what will make you call Tim when you’re 30. I want that relationship for both of you, and I smile, wondering what will make you think, “Dad would know how to fix this.”
Good night, Elena. Let’s have a good night rest before the end of our Spring Break and very special Month together.
Start with a Story 
Ana, what a lovely comment about the pink sky! Now I have tears! About writing…I’ve told students before that writing is the closest thing to magic, and I believe it – we can create anything, whole worlds, even – but the real magic lies in the sharing. I might also add that magic isn’t just magic, you have to work hard at it to make it happen (don’t we know!). Thank you for these words and for being part of this uplifting community.
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Fran, this comment brought tears to my eyes. For the longest time, I took whatever writing made me feel, but now that I have this community, my perspective is much more meaningful and it feels so rewarding. Thank you so, so much! I will think of you the next time the sky turns pink on us 🙂
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Thank you for these words! I never expected this challenge to open my eyes this way. What a fun way to be awake. I’m also glad to have connected with so many amazing writers. I’m heading over to your blog now to catch up on some slices 🙂
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This post carries such a beautiful feeling of contentment and love. You have so many lines that are so gorgeous. This post is lovely for the moments you write about, but also for what you say about the month as a whole. This line: “I see brightness in all these slices of life.” feels like it speaks to the whole purpose of the challenge–at least for me, one of my very favorite things about the month is that I notice more “brightness” in my ordinary moments of life. I also love this line: “This challenge was also a gift for me.” I think all of us in the slicing community feel that way. Thank you for articulating this, and for being part of it!
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Ana, your reflection on relationships here is deeply moving – yours to your daughter, hers to her Dada (that’s what my two-year-old granddaughter still calls my son) and yours to Amy. Such a beautiful friendship – not to mention the writing connection, which deepens it even more! Your words pull on my heartstrings, wondering what Elena will call her dad in the future, even as you feel a sense of loss for what you “will never get” – I understand this. I can tell you in time, life fills in some of these spaces and they will not ache as much. The quote from Brown on vulnerability and courage…spot on. The three things you capture here – with Elena – are like glittering beads, strung one by one. Writing company…whatever would we do, and be, without it? I am grateful to have read this today. I come away feeling that the world is brighter…and pinker.
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Oh, this is beautiful. Sweet Elena, you are so lucky to have this mother and this father. May your world be full of stories and sunsets and moments when you know a call to your father may fix things. May you find joy in these letters your mother has written to you this month. If nothing else, sweet Elena, know that you are loved, so very loved. 💕
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😭😭😭😭 I love you. That’s it. That’s the comment.
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