“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” — Rumi
I have my kids half of the time, but they are 100% their own selves, completely whole, just like me. When I catch a glimpse of my kids in the rear view mirror, looking dreamily and cheerfully at the passing landscape, I remember that their identities stretch far beyond just being my children. They are smart, funny, charming little people who see the world as beautiful and loving and safe. When they draw, they color big yellow suns and rainbows and trees bursting with fruit; they draw themselves with wide, bright eyes and crazy hair, their hands reaching straight up in the air. Sometimes they draw me onto the page too, holding their hands or sitting with them under the fruit trees, and in other drawings, I’m just outside the margins, and you can’t see me. I’m riding my bike down a hill, or drinking a third cup of coffee on the porch. I’m out for a long run. I’m writing. I’m taking the stairs two at a time.