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What is up with this particular coincidence? That in the last two weeks and in my first nine books of the year, two of them are the mix of non-fiction and parenting? I thought this was the year of Paris? Or the year of Coco Chanel. It still is, but it started with a detour.

I have read everything Frederick Backman has written, and I have loved it all. Deeply enthralled. With an exception. I haven't read Every Morning the Road Gets a Bit Longer. I haven't chosen to read it, because I try to stay away from a few topics in my reading, and Dementia/Alzheimers is one of them. Cancer is another. The abuse, murder, and deep neglect of children is the third. So I would read just about anything Backman writes. I even read the very short story about Depression, and the Christmas novella, despite that I am Jewish and don't tend to go for the Christmas fare.

This one didn't capture me as much as the novels. Not because he isn't funny, and in some places spot on, and self-effacing. Its because I think what one writes to ones children, what they want them to know about the world is deeply personal, and intrinsic to their personal relationship with their kids. Their values, what kind of legacy does one leave that's important. Lots of things I didn't put together, when I read about 35% of it last night, and the rest this morning. For one, I did not put it together that I have written to my kids since the moment of pregnancy 19-20 years ago. It took us a long and hard time to get pregnant, and when I finally did, it felt more miraculous than regular. I have since learned that every pregnancy feels like a miracle, there is nothing remotely ordinary about it no matter how long your struggle took to get there. But this was a long haul, and I wanted this child to know the story of how they got there. I soon wrote other things as well. The story of our families. Things I wanted the child and future siblings to know. I had our whole family write letters to the child/children. I spoke about small things and large things. My thoughts on tatoos, what we were thinking and doing at that time, things going on in the world, and about what it was like to experience September 11th, and its first anniversary, which is the day we bought your baby furniture. On September 11th, 2022, we bought your crib and rocking chair.

In addition to keeping up the "writing" where eventually all kinds of things went in there. Funny stories, moments, graduation speeches, a eulogy or two, letters we received, I began to write essays on all sorts of topics. These were in part meant for you too - a lasting legacy. And I wrote when each of you had your Kindergarten year, and I wrote when the two oldest had bar mitzvahs and we needed to write our parent blessings. And I threw those and your speeches into the running journal, which hasn't had much action honestly, in over a decade. And I wrote two more essays, when my darling Jaden was graduating high school. One about what it was like for me to launch him into the world, and the second for him - for his launch. And so on the morning of his graduation, I gave him a book. With his Kindergarten Essay, the bar mitzvah blessings and speeches. The three essays he wrote for college applications, and the one he wrote for the school he chose and is attending, and the the last two essays, the final one he hadn't read. I figured the gift would be more important to him 5, to 10, to 20 years later, but I could tell he appreciated it. A couple of weeks later, he was leaving for Camp Counselor for the summer, and I asked him if he could fit in reading the last essay before he left, and he said with a smile, "I already did." I had a hard time containing my delight. "What did you think?" "It was solid. I liked it. Thank You." And I realized that the moment had become too heavy for him, and that the moment was enough. We were done.

So everyone has been asking me this week. What is it like that he is going back to college? To be honest I am emotional about it, and not as emotional as the first time in September, but it feels pretty huge to me. Like a series of goodbyes from here on out is the way they describe it on Grown and Flown. Did I get enough "moments" with him? Definitely not. Did I have any. For sure. It felt so important to me yesterday to make sure to make him a zucchini loaf with chocolate chips, because I know he likes it, and to take two to freeze to take back to school to share with his friends. This is significant friends, because I don't cook a damn thing. Except for huge holidays. I have been calling him the "apparition" these last few weeks, and it feels like the most intimate moments I have had, have been to catch or supply him with something before he disapparates real quick. For some reason, the moment felt like a real lot to me, to be sending him off in some way. I was late at work last night when my husband mentioned that he really loved it, and it tasted delicious, and in the way middle of the night, he told me so himself, as I took the few moments to praise his independent thinking and choices, but also tell him that I really thought his mustache was no longer working for him. And that I thought he should shave before he goes back to school.

Anyway, we all wonder - have we given our kids enough life lessons? Have we told them what they need to know about the world? About what it was like to raise them? About what they need to know? And then I thought about how I have. Not just because I gave him a thick book of my writing, but because even if in small moments, I have told him and them all the way through. I was thinking this morning about how life is a series of moments. And even though I feel like I have had way fewer, with all of the kids actually, and even with my husband of late, I have had them - and they have mattered. And my kids take them with them when they walk through the world. Along with the Zucchini Loaf and the Razor, my kid has taken in a few things he has learned, some of them through me and us.

It was interesting to be back in a space where its about infants and toddlers, and one is thinking about what their kid should know when they are older. In the summer we were asking ourselves - I was. Can he fold a shirt? Socks? Does he know how to shuffle a deck of cards? To dance? Cook a little? Is there anything he needs to know about money? I do think that he knows the important things in life, and the rest he will learn along the way. But have I imparted what I wanted to and needed to? Yes, I think I have. I am still learning things from my parents and others, and am blessed with still having moments. Little ones, bigger ones. They all matter and are sacred. Moments that make up a life, whether we write about them or not. Anyway, I liked the book enough, but it wasn't mine. This review, and this journey - that is mine.

Loved your review and identify with the journey. It just keeps on and gets more fascinating, as I had cause to think about when we met with our sons (29 and 31) in Dakar over the holidays. I think it was the first time I saw them as truly adults, with independent lives. It's easy to get too nostalgic for all the beautiful past things, but, my oh my, they do become more and more interesting with time!

Love that Susan~