High line.

Hugo Henry:

This weekend, we took to the High Line - that refurbished strip of jungle and abandoned train track in the heart of Manhattan - and walked the whole of it. We stopped for trains coming in and out of Penn Station. We stopped for art and benches, and so that you could drive your trucks along railings of all kinds.

I held you half the way, which is often how you prefer it. You're too big to be held now, it would seem. Half my size and quite capable of using your own legs. But you are not two forever, and there will come a day when you don't stop in front of me with your hands outstretched. One day, you will be too much a boy to want your mama so, too lanky for me to lift.

Today is not that day, thank goodness, and I am strong enough for this. The best mamas are made of steel and safety in equal parts, I've found.

And I love you so.


A farewell dinner.

This one for Christine, one of the kindest, most sincere souls to ever live in New York. We raised our glasses around a table of comfort food at Spoon - to being homeward bound, to new adventures, to health and happiness for her and her boys. Such luck that our paths have crossed for the last six years.



 ^^dinner under heaps of ripe grapes, within reach of toddler hands.^^
 ^^the celebration of a milestone for our littlest sister.^^
 ^^carnivals strung through the month of August.^^
 ^^nights on the green.^^
 ^^dates with friends, their new babies.^^
 ^^runs before daylight.^^
 ^^and flowers for a desk.^^
 ^^a cronut, too. miracle of miracles, there was NO LINE at Dominique Ansel's one morning (the first time in years - I kid you not). basically an invitation.^^
 ^^a (still half-asleep) running buddy, when Blake is out of town.^^
 ^^and a hat from Nashville for Hugo when Blake returned.^^
 ^^a dog at the dog park, not playing with dogs.^^
 ^^nights at the nearby playground, with the most beautiful skies.^^
 ^^obligatory seasonal photos.^^
 ^^unbelievably gorgeous sunsets.^^
^^and Gus, still doing what he does best.^^



From Saturday by the lake, passing a newborn, willing three toddlers to take naps. Taking quiet walks. Fishing by morning and watching the sun fade pink, red, orange by evening. A welcome opportunity to get away from it all. 


Eliza Ruth.

My warrior sister gave birth to the sweetest human being after 41 hours of labor this weekend. Just a note to say that I'm so thankful that she's here, I love her a ridiculous amount already, and women are unstoppable. 

Welcome to the world, Eliza Ruth. You and I are going to be great friends. 


Rooftop tacos.

One warmer-than-usual September evening, Blake set out for tacos and I set out for a view. We met at Salvation Taco in Midtown for drinks, for warm breezes, for the sounds of Manhattan from above. The kind of night that's saturated with reasons to breathe deep, appreciate right here and right now.


The last days of summer.

*we had a weekend speckled with loss - two family friends that left us within a day of each other, leaving behind a legacy of selflessness and goodness. birthday voicemails every year, without fail. a little wooden train that Hugo adores. to have lived such a big life - to put an ache in so many hearts - is about the most beautiful thing I can think of at the moment. 
*and there were smaller things, too: a trip to the book sale, a bouquet of dahlias for the counter, long talks with friends, holding babies in the church nursery, hours at the beach with my boy while his dad was away for work. we celebrated my dad's birthday, too, and the homecoming of my brother's newborn. and in the wee hours of this morning, Blake settled into the bed next to me for the first time in a week. my mind keeps turning over the word "gratitude". for all of it: the joys and the aches.