Not A Bad Way To Start the New Year

Sipping coffee in the glow of the white lights of the Christmas Tree, the house is quiet and dark as Sarah sleeps in our bed and Che slumbers in her crib.

In the middle of the night, worst fears and bad dreams come to life, so I've wandered in both bedrooms to make certain the loves of my life are breathing.

Maddie, Laurel and Cass are elsewhere on this predawn New Years Day, celebrating the future as only teenagers can.

Sickness has been a constant visitor in our home, touching each member of our family, passing back and forth between the girls and after a month, I suppose it's my turn.

At 2:10 I can no longer sleep because of exploding sinuses and after an hour of positioning myself in every conceivable way, I crawl in the shower for steaming hot water to loosen up my nasal cavities.

"Hello darkness, my old friend," I hum but the lights of the Christmas Tree make it seem Holy somehow and not so bad.

Snippets of the conversation Sarah and I had earlier bounce around my head.

Talking about the changes in our lives that occurred last year, the coming changes as Maddie leaves for College soon, where Che's going to school, the challenges of balancing finances with quality-of-life, we communicate as we rarely can with the hustle and bustle of a full home.

At one point I say, "In spite of everything we don't have, lots of people would kill for what we do have ... mostly a house full of crazy love and non-stop madness."

I got a lot but sometimes I wish for more than I got.

I suppose it's human nature to be selfish.

Sitting here I focus on being thankful.

I'm married to a remarkable woman, a strange brew of toughness, uncompromising standards, laser vision on what she wants, spontaneity and a love for me so deep it defies comprehension.

She keeps me on my toes.

I have no idea what or where or who I would be without her.

Two year old Che is non-stop delight, learning her words ... "Daddy no Mom" she says to Sarah handing her the piece of candy I refuse to open because I'd already opened too many ... and the way she looks back at me, as though to make sure I understand that she understands she has options ... makes us explode in laughter.

When we laugh, Che bends over, puts her tiny hand in front of her mouth and laughs too.

It's pure, unadulterated joy!

Most people live years without having such a moment.

Maddie's away celebrating the New Year with her boyfriend. She's as screwy as any teenager ever born, part brilliant ... part clueless ... but before she leaves, she hugs me with wet hair and says, "I love you" and ... well, lots of people never experience such moments.

Laurel is my kid because she's forever getting herself in trouble like I do and she enjoys every second of it.

Driving her to the sleepover yesterday, she sips Starbucks and asks, "What are you and Mom doing for New Years?"

Taking the turn out of the parking lot, I reply, "Well, tonight I'm tying your Mom to the bed, gonna have my way with her and then she's going to have her way with me."

Focusing on her latte, she asks, "Does Mom know about this?"

"Naw, it's a surprise."

She laughs, spewing whipped cream on the dashboard.

"I love you Mike," she says getting out.

Driving home I ponder all the lonely people.

Cassidy's with her Dad, meaning there's no sink full of dirty dishes, her room's mostly clean, she's not biding her time through supper so she can sneak a gallon of ice cream to her room and spend the night on Instagram.

Her absence exacerbates the silence.

"What are you doing?" Sarah startles me, standing in the soft glow of the Christmas Tree, hair askew from her pillow.

"Go back to sleep. My sinuses exploded."

"It's the alcohol," she mutters crawling back in bed. "It makes it worse."

Pouring another cup of coffee, I suck the steamy aroma up my nose, wonder about our grandson Ethan and the coming granddaughter Chelsea's giving us soon.

I'm grateful my children are healthy, doing well and seem happy.

Returning to my seat, I'm glad it's warm outside.

Yesterday, Sarah and I strung up outside lights for Che so I turn them on and find myself looking forward to the hours I'll spend watching her play under them.

I do have a lot and I know it.

Still, I want more.

Travel ... time with old friends ... making new ones ... seeing and doing things I've never done before ... tying Sarah to a bed and having my way with her.

Then I think, it's God who wanted me to get up when it's dark and quiet, in the soft glow of the Christmas Tree lights, without the hustle and bustle of a house full of moving parts, so I have the time to appreciate everything I've got and to fully consider what else I want.

It's not a bad way to start this New Year.