Blue sky

It has been a hard fall. I admit that September was glorious with opportunities to bike everywhere in unseasonably warm weather. But October came in wet and dark. In a matter of weeks we had lost two lovely men- both named Lowell- to cancer. Saying goodbye to these two fabulously kind, generous men made the sky over us lower and darken. It seemed like every day was wet and dark and tinged with sadness. And then we got news about a nephew's brain tumor. He's nine. This surely did nothing to lighten our skies.

But here's the redemption, or the hint that it is on the horizon: The first Lowell, my uncle Hap, was celebrated at a memorial service that was simply amazing. I cried through the entire two hours, but left feeling inspired and uplifted. Hap had figured out how to live fully, and by sharing stories with us, his family had given us keys, secrets, to living our own lives large. It's up to us to follow through- but the inspiration provided by Hap and his loved ones is hard to forget, to ignore. And the second Lowell, Jay's dad. When Theo heard that he had died it looked like someone had punched him in the stomach. He became deflated. And Theo barely knew Lowell. But he had a bond with him, because that is what Lowell did. When he talked to you, his eyes sparkled and you felt like he was your own personal cheer leader- wishing you the best. To know him at all was to love him. Another life well lived, well loved. And the cousin- everyone is optimistic that the surgery will go well. His parents astound me with their ability to keep perspective. They have spoken what to me sounds like a mantra: Everything is treatable. It's treatable. And the waiting is almost done- the surgery later this week.

So November has come and with it some sun. And warmth. This past weekend we actually had some spare time. Jon got out for a lovely bike ride and I took the boys to the park. I was chatting with an old friend while the boys hit the swings. After 10 minutes they brushed by me and Theo said, "Mom, have you even seen what is right behind you?". I turned to find a small group of people manipulating a hot air balloon. It was unclear what they were trying to do with it. If they were trying to launch it, it was not going well. But no one seemed distressed. A little closer scrutiny showed that the ballooneer (balloonist?) in question was my neighbor, Jake. Eli and Theo spotted their friend Javi, Jake's son, frolicking around the edges of the rainbow colored fabric. We headed over to say hello and offer help. Turns out that Jake and his parents were simply airing out the ballon after it had been stuffed in its trailer during our damp October. We got involved grabbing a seam and pulling the fabric out, slowly turning the balloon over, bringing the damp bottom up to the top to expose it to the sun and the wind. Then they trained a powerful fan into the opening to get air flowing through the fabric. The balloon came to life, billowing and pulsing off the ground. The boys had found a football that earlier Javi had lost beneath the fabric and were busy playing 500. I took the moment to lie down on my back near the edge of the balloon. The sun warmed my cheeks as I watched the rainbow fabric flutter and billow and fly above me, framed against the perfect blue of a Minnesota fall sky.