Kids These Days

the kids and grandkids lining the big stone bench in the yard, grinning for the camera. We learned the hard way not to take moments like these for granted—they can be as rare and unexpected as three white squirrels. The next time we all gathered together, it was for a final farewell to one taken far too soon.

Lewis brings me a fresh cup of coffee, before setting out with his fishing rod. The string of bream he gave our neighbor yesterday is a cautionary tale worth remembering. Not everything that is bright and shiny ends up being good for you. He stops in the middle of the yard to watch an osprey plummet into the dark water for the fish she needs for her family. Rising in a flurry of feathers, shaking droplets of water into the air, she positions the fish headfirst into the wind before sailing into the air. It’s a behavior that I’ve never noticed before, but it makes perfect sense. Instinct has taught her how to lessen the resistance of the wind when it blows against her. I can think of many ways we should apply the strategy to our own lives.

We’ll be leaving tomorrow, and it always makes me a little sad. But I hope that as we pack the car, turn off the icemaker, and check the thermostat before locking the door, something intangible slips like a shadow in between the wet towels or into the bag of groceries that won’t keep until the next trip. I hope that we come across it on a day when we need it to humble us, or teach us about love and loyalty; to give us courage to dive into dark water and rise to shake it from our feathers. I hope it reminds us that we all need to keep on paddling, and that it is important to occasionally jump into the air for no good reason.

In those moments I hope we will stop to remember, and to be grateful for the lessons of the lake. AM

by Tara Bailey

y children, now grown, still appreciate

MChristmas magic. Yet despite being fullyformed, bill-paying adults, they still don’t understand how it works. That’s because Santa has not disclosed his secrets and never will. What’s life without a little mystery? And who embraces mystery more than children—even those grown?

Sadly, some of Santa’s methods will be different this year for the first time in twenty-three years because this is the first Christmas one of our daughters won’t be coming home for the holidays. I’m trying not to be too blue about it, but some of the magic will be lost.

The eldest daughter, now living in Brooklyn, is unable to travel for Christmas due to work. I shouldn’t complain, because 1) as previously mentioned, her job allows her to pay her bills and live where and how she wants, and 2) we took a family trip to see her in October, and she was also able to come home for Thanksgiving. We’ve had some good family time with her—just not enough. (Well, not enough for us—probably more than enough for her.)

It’s been at least two decades since we’ve slept through Christmas Eve without being awakened by footsteps from above. Neither age nor experience has stopped our kids from racing downstairs at three a.m. to see what Santa brought. Birthdays never inspired this type of excitement and anticipation; I can only assume it’s the mystery of it all that draws them from their sleep—that, and a little sisterly tradition. By the time the parents and grandparents arise on Christmas morning, the living room is a disaster of strewn packaging and spilled stockings. Like raccoons having helped themselves to leftovers from the trash bins, there are never

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any signs of the scavengers other than the happy mess they made. The girls usually reemerge later in the morning with extreme bedhead sometime after the older adults are on their third cups of coffee. It’s the one morning when no one tells them to go to bed or get up.

The three sisters maintain their own sense of mystery regarding Christmas morning: we still have no idea if they set a witching-hour alarm or genuinely wake up eager to see their gifts. (Jim suspects they just don’t go to sleep. He’s probably right.) This year, will the sisters still trample down the stairs without their leader there to stir up the quiet chaos? The younger two have been known to sleep through… well, lots of important things. So we might be getting a full night’s sleep, like it or not.

Santa has always come through, including times when he had a stomach virus, when he left a top wish-list item at the North Pole, or when he broke a gift in transit. He even prevailed during the worst of the pandemic. Santa never guarantees that gift recipients will be pleased with his offerings, only that they will delight in their discovery. So, what delights will he leave this year, 750 miles away? Will an Amazon truck be as mystical as a sleigh? Santa fears delivery instructions will mark the end of the magic.

This Christmas morning won’t be the first or only moment of lost innocence. The oldest daughter is twenty-three, after all. But this is likely the year any illusions of her youth officially dissolve like the frost on Prospect Park struck by the winter sun. She’s well prepared for it, having peeked behind the curtain of adulthood to secure affordable, rent-controlled housing, a full time job, and four random roommates of varying backgrounds and personalities. She has managed public transportation, made new friends from scratch, and found her way around the Boroughs of New