how we show up

It's astonishing how good humans are. 

Especially the humans we know.

None of us have the same skills, or knowledge or insight, but dammit when someone is struggling most people know how to show up. 

They come to play the piano while he hums along.

They show up in my kitchen unannounced and finish doing my dishes before I even realize they've started.

They hold his hand.

They show up 25 years after you've finished teaching them dance with fresh cinnamon rolls, gift cards, and a pre-paid tab for a cleaning lady (and yes that was even before I invited them inside the house - it's like they're psychic).

They give us permission to joke around and remind us that not every conversation has to be deep and existential - that sometimes we just wanna watch an episode of New Girl and eat chips - and that's ok.

They know when to leave.

They know when to hang on to the hug.

They know where the drier vent is and check it out so you don't start a house fire right under the hospital bed.

They know that as much as Rico is dictating this trip, that the rest of us are passengers too. They see us.

They schedule zoom visits for times when he's awake..

They cry with us, then laugh with us, then laugh-cry with us.

They give us cards that say "This is horseshit."

They bring tacos and answer questions about family plots.

They drop off they keys to their own houses and say "We're leaving town and you need a break - go find some peace."

They bring Neeks cheesey mashed potatoes.

They say "No need to respond to this text, but I'm heading to Target if you need anything."

They aren't offended when we don't call back. They know we would if we could.

They send their kids over to play.

They understand who Rico is, who our family is and they respect it, protect it and help us cherish every piece of it.

They are somehow perfectly present without being intrusive.

We say it to each other every day - we're the luckiest. We love each other and we get to love you too. Thanks for loving us back.