The longest that I’ve ever been apart from my son is about a week.
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Whatever Comes After
I sat at a table in the gym at my son’s school. At the other tables, there were a dog groomer, a police detective, someone from the state park maintenance crew, an archaeologist, and other community members. We were there for career day.
My topic was AI.
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What Could Have Been
I was listening to a podcast recently about a woman in her seventies, semi-retired, describing a life built around boards and civic connections and a career that had opened into something expansive in its later years. She sounded settled in a way that felt earned, like she had arrived somewhere she had been moving toward for a long time.
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Not His Thing
I read about a hundred books a year. Most of them are audiobooks, which I get for free through the local library. It’s one of those habits that has been with me since I was young, the library as a place, the books as company. My goddaughter is also a reader, and a few months ago we got her a library card. Usually she reserves books online and I pick them up on my way back from school drop-off. But occasionally we’ll go together to browse.
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About
I’m Dave. I write about raising a son with refractory epilepsy.
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