How to use this Page

Yesterday we celebrated the first birthday of the absolutely stunning Miss Eva, who receives the love we want to give her with the greatest graces possible. We have watched Eva grow into the glory she is. She has touched her hand to the light shim of our earrings, held tight to the leather string about our necks, danced with us and for us, breathed her brand new soul into our hearts. Eva gives us back some of what all our years of living took away, and she doesn't even know yet, and perhaps she never will.

Cristina, Eva's mom, teaches my husband to dance. Jeremy, Eva's dad, was an opera singer in another life; before that, he was performing on middle school stages with a best childhood friend, Brendan James, who, with his very beautiful wife, joined in Eva's celebration. Brendan, as it turns out, is an extraordinary singer/piano player/lyricist, hailed by LA Weekly, New York Daily, EW.com, and plenty of others; featured alongside Springsteen and Eddie Vedder on the soundtrack of Body of War; and now awaiting (May 2010) the release, from Decca, of his second album.

Listen to Early April Morning. It's the pure work of a classically trained musician who is clearly headed somewhere.

I have been the kind of person, throughout too much of my life, who measures the day by the progress that's been made—against deadlines, against expectations, against you name it.

I've tried to make the days count.

But today, after going urban pecs power and all, I decided to give myself the day off. Went shopping for an outfit. Went shopping for shoes. Took my beautiful boy out to lunch. Got my hair done. At four o'clock I was in the car, driving to the baptism of a baby girl who has a world of dancers head over heels for her, at least partly because her mom, Cristina, pictured here, had long ago danced her way into our hearts.

I did nothing all day but look forward to this—this gathering of friends in celebration of a baby and a marriage. And then it happened, then I came home, and all I wanted was more song, so I turned the music on. I stood at the screened-in door and watched the night begin. There were clouds. There were stars. There was a carousel of lightning bugs. I sang to the songs. I danced alone.

One more thing: The beautiful service that honored Cristina, her husband, Jeremy, and their baby was conducted—impeccably—by a man who later introduced himself as the husband of fellow blogger, Sierra Rix. Sometimes we bloggers slip out from our shadows. Sometimes we're just standing there as no one but ourselves.

I get so much wrong in this life, but today I got right. Today there was one measure: joy.