"Today is the first day of the rest of your life."

My dad used to nail that to my noggin with his hammering, oh-so-enthusiastic voice in the morning when I was a teenager. And then he'd wander off down the steps singing, "The hills are alive with the sound of music..."

You think I'm kidding, but I'm not. He drove me fucking nuts. But I got this idea from all of that that he would not be fulfilled in his life until I was motivated to do something with mine.

One night though, I remember something that I don't know if he remembers... He came into my room in the dark. I had gotten home late and he sat my floor (in his underwear!) and started crying. He went on and on about his father never being proud of him even though he was a superior student, and runner, class officer, excellent employee, blah, blah, blah. He told me of a time that his dad came after him with fists while my dad was waiting on the bus to go to work. His dad was furious about a grade he'd gotten that was not perfect. I don't remember all of what he was saying because I was pretty stoned, but I do remember the mood and it was dark, so unlike the happy-go-lucky fellow who liked to wear sunshine on his lapel.

I'm 40 years old now, but it seems like that just happened I remember him being there so clearly. And I got this idea in my head then that somehow I should not be content until my father is, and I don't think he will ever be because he never really did what he wanted to do. And here I am in my house, that he didn't want me to buy, that I love. And with a husband who adores me, who he didn't want me to marry. And raising children, he didn't believe I could raise.

I remember when Nicholas was born and I was down in the Florida room in my parents house, rocking the baby in a chair, nursing him while his little fists curled up under my breast, and making up songs to hum to him because I didn't really know any lullabies. And each tune came out like a flower blooming from my throat, it sounded so sweet and natural. I had never liked children, but this was a good one. My mom told me later that my dad had been watching me, and then told her, with some surprise, "She's really good at this."

And I was and I am. It comes so naturally to me to be with these particular children. I still am not enthusiastic by the presence of other people's, but these kids are very nice ~ Dreaming their own dreams and drawing their own maps. God, please, don't let my expectations ever interfere with their plans.

I had a dream last night and this woman was in my house and looking around and saying to me, "You have made it so warm here, it's such a nice place to come to..."

I don't think I know what this first day of the rest of my life actually means, I don't know what I want to do with the rest of it, but this day of my life, I want to mother my children and go to the library and pick up my books that have been reserved, make stir fry, brush my cat, sweep and clean up the party leftovers. I want to read and sew and do dishes and live here in the little house that I love that my father didn't want for me.