February is always a busy time for us. Birthdays, holidays, long weekends, snow…. I come home to violin music floating from the bedroom and a dining room table strewn with homework. The boys are studying Crime and Punishment, Thoreau, Americanah, and the meaning of Dove beauty ads. There is a jar of passatta simmering on the stove, becoming soup for our grilled cheese, and a fluffy cat with curled paws is sleeping in the bean bag.

Before dinner, we have carrots and jalapeno chips, and debate whether protein powder is a good idea. Four or five giant pairs of shoes are always in a pile by the front door, and Mike and I alternate between pork chops and chicken, trying to find new ways to make both of them taste good. For happy hour, we have gin and maybe play a game of Boggle while the boys shake off the school day.

In early January the snow starts to fall and the kids miss a week of school. Jake and I walk to the Lincoln Memorial on a cold Sunday night to see where a truck plunged off the bridge into the Potomac. Mike and I walk to Courthouse for coffee and bring home bags full of bagels. Home is a warm and safe place to be.

In February we celebrate birthdays, the same birthday dinner of linguine with bolognese, twice, because sometimes the easy thing is also the best thing. There was also a night downtown at a restaurant with our favorite people, and a tagine made by Mimi that was far better than any restaurant! Napolean cake, Swedish Princess cake, sachertorte; there was a lot of cake. And a surprise trip to see Hans Zimmer! It was pretty much a great month full of a lot of wonderful things.

Rowing after school every day, riding bikes to Columbia Island, taping up blisters and rinsing out clothes. I make cucumbers with balsamic glaze and banana parfait, and set out Ritz crackers and Twinkies and mandarin fruit cups, because these are the same snacks they’ve had since they were toddlers, and why mess with a good thing. We are exhausted on Sundays after long Saturdays of rowing and running half marathons, and trying to stockpile enough milk and bacon to last another week. We go through so much bubble bath. I do a little baking when we’re home long enough to watch the dough rise,.

Gus enjoys flowers in the early afternoon light. He is still our angel.

The sun goes to bed early while we stay up late, working on math and IB presentations, and try to keep up with the news. Plane crashes and federal workers getting fired are the current trends, and we fear we’re witnessing a dark part of history repeat itself. Fortunately, we know enough about the world to know that people can survive a long time, and the good parts of history eventually repeat too.

The reflecting pool froze again and we went ice-skating, with hockey players and dogs, and a pair of figure skaters. We still don’t really know if this is allowed? But we do it, and so far nobody has asked us to stop. On one of the very coldest days, Jimmy Carter’s funeral was held in DC. It was a sad day, full of feelings and memories, and I wanted Jake and Eli to know who he was and what America was, on this cusp of what feels like a dark chapter for our country. I wanted them know he was a person of compassion and integrity, that our President is historically a good person, and is proof that sometimes, the good guy wins. So even though it was 20 degrees outside and almost 10pm, Mike dropped us off on a cold Wednesday night to wait in line at the Capitol. The air was frigid and extremely uncomfortable, and I still can’t believe we stood outside until 2am, believing “our group will surely be next.” After four hours my fingers had frozen into hooks and I couldn’t unzip my coat for the metal detector, so a military officer had to come and do it for me, which was a very nice thing for him to do.

We shuffled through the marble halls, dimmed to a light suited to both the mood of a funeral and the wee hours of the morning. One by one, still bundled in coats, we stepped into the Rotunda, glowing bright, like an altar lifting to God. Thick wreaths of flowers and six military soldiers stood tall in the dusky light, watching over their former Commander in Chief. It was a moment for the boys and I to be inspired by the strength and leadership of our government, a balance of wisdom and might, and a comfort greater than ourselves. I wonder, how did we manage to stand outside for four hours on a freezing winter night? I don’t know, but I’m grateful that we did..

Most humans live in the cocoon of their own bubble. They believe their experience is the only real one. They forget that this age, with this anxiety, is not unique to themselves or their own generation. They forget that every age was anxious. Every age was sleepless. Every age was full of insecurities, and there was never an easy childhood. We sacrifice our present for the myths of the future and the past, and end up missing our lives.

Some days, the reality is that every night at dinner our teenagers can’t stop talking. There is a hill by the school with enough snow to go sledding, and there is a cat in the sink. This version of life is real, and I think the perfect version, the one I want never to end.