The sonogram tech moved the sensor around Kristi’s belly. I watched my baby’s heart flicker. Still fast, but down to 155 or so. She asked, “Do you want to know?” And we did. “It’s a boy. I’m sure. Look right here.” She pointed at the screen. I saw nothing but my little guy arch backwards so that his heels hit his skull. We kissed.
We went to a tree farm. The trees grew from a bed of brown grass. The wind assured that the trees grew at an angle. The guy at the farm told us how to cut the tree down so that it would look straight in our living room. And which tress had green spray paint. Then he gave us cider and Kris and I planned our trip.
December 2010 was magical. Back to my home for Christmas. Los Angeles, CA.
We flew in on a late Sunday evening and sat in traffic on our way back to the Valley. We barbecued in late December. We watched college football and talked to family. I played with my nephews; already big at 5 and 10 years-old.
I picked up a giant rental truck on Christmas Eve to drive back to Wichita. I was sure that all of my childhood things that didn’t make it up to Minnesota for law school would leave the truck brimming.
Christmas was Los Angeles warm. I played catch in the backyard with my brother. We opened gifts for the 35th straight year in that living room. It was my sister’s turn to pass out the gifts. She let her son do it.
We hit the road early on the 26th and drove until Kris was tired. Then we kept driving.
Days on the road this trip: 9