American Robin, Turdus Migratorius. Before you make your mental joke, it means thrush. Thrush on the move.

Rain on a tin roof all night.

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,
and though they are with you, and yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love, but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,
for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday.

Kahlil Gibran

This Is It

A parent of one of my clients passed away about a week ago. The family was sadly unprepared for any significant kind of recognition of a life gone by. It's not particularly important to me to have a big fancy celebration of my own passing, especially because I won't be able to attend. But, what is a life worth? I would like to request a service among the trees, a bonfire, some nice words from people I have loved. I would like there to be beer because it will help everyone relax, be sad together, and maybe sing a John Denver song about country roads and West Virginia. I would like someone to say that I was a good mom to my kids and a good wife even though I made lots of piles. I would like there to be beauty present in the midst of sorrow and for everyone to be grateful for being alive.