Sandra Dodd

Yesterday I spent the afternoon with Kirby and Marty, meeting for the first time Kirby's girlfriend, Destiny.

Kirby is 27. Marty will be 25 in January 2014.

Because Marty moved out this summer, I'm moving my workshop/filing/storage into his old room. I've come across my Christmas letter from 1989 and want to share the paragraphs on those boys, when they were my only children.

Kirby talks about all kinds of things and has a great memory and a wild imagination. He litters the house with invisible rockets and flying carpets (with seatbelts) and drafts us to be characters in his productions. For over a year now he's been a pushy choreographer and a pretty good singer! For his birthday in July his grandma and grandpa got him a swingset, and daddy built him a great big sandbox, so that's improved the quality of outdoor living for toddlers. His "k" and hard "c" haven't come in yet, so he says his name is "Tirby." I got in trouble for trying to play a Mighty Mouse video tape when he asked (over and over) for a Mighty Mouse tape (Tape, Mom, TAPE!). He wanted a cape.

Marty is just standing and starting to walk. He sings "ooga" when we sing "Baby Beluga," and he plays recorder (one wet note) and kazoo, as did his brother before him. He's a huggable sweetie. My mom took him out the other morning to see his first snow, to which his response was "Uh oh." Last Saturday I was privileged to watch him wake up to find himself five feet from about ten belly-dancers performing to live music. What a great face he had on him, like he had woken up on the wrong planet, too amazed to be scared or happy. He stared for at least fifteen seconds before he looked to see where I was. When he saw me he realized this was his planet, so he started crying. If I hadn't been there he might've just gotten up and danced.

Reflections and memories are a part of relationships, even 24 years out.
Try to make yours good ones.