Holy shit – they’re now old enough to use language like this, and as today marks the 13th birthday of Emi and Noah, and our entrance into PG-13 territory, I’m at a bit of a loss to say much more than that, but here goes my best effort. They knew from the beginning that their Uncle Al would be no ordinary Guncle, even with Uncle Andy steadying the ship; this sea was going to be wild and free and more fun than anywhere or anyone else. They knew too that we’d get wet and messy and test each other’s patience sometimes, but in the end we’d have a good time, and maybe even become a little better for it.
Watching these two remarkable children make their way through life for thirteen years has been as fascinating as it has been moving and edifying. They have probably taught me more than I will ever be able to teach them – and I’ve actually taught them a decent amount. My lessons and methods may be unorthodox and weird, but they always gave them a shot. (Getting two eleven-year-olds to sit down and meditate in silence might seem an impossible fool’s errand, but we managed at least five solid minutes, and that’s a success.)
From that rainy, warm day on which they were born, when Andy and I first saw them and held them, and they could fit in two hands, they captured our hearts and changed our family for the better.
We’ve had many adventures, and sometimes that consisted of just a few hours of babysitting on my own, trying to herd two children who wanted to go everywhere all at once, as long as they were going in opposite directions, and headed toward something dangerous.
Throughout it all, they maintained the love between a brother and a sister – the unique love between twins – and had each other when the world would turn dim around them.
Whenever I lost my faith in humanity, something that gets increasingly easy to do, I would think of Emi and Noah, and that faith would be somewhat restored. they were the living embodiment of hope, in all its flawed and imperfect forms, and with all its grace and innocence and power.
The older they get, the better able I am to relate to them, and as they grow up and gain maturity, I seem to be on the opposite pathing of growing down and losing maturity. Those two trajectories have us on a path to meet somewhere in the middle sooner rather than later, and every time we get together it gets a little more fun.
For now, they are still young enough to enjoy their Uncle Al’s quirkiness and eccentricities without cringing too deeply at my middle-aged ignorance of what’s trendy at the moment. As a wise mother once said in ‘Mean Girls’, “You girls keep me young. Oh I love you so much.”
Now that they have welcomed a baby brother into the family, they graduate to older brother and sister status, and the real work and role-modeling begins. Our own adventures shall continue, and I’m already plotting out our next trip to Boston and beyond…
Happy Birthday Noah and Emi! You are adored, you are loved!!
