Stephen, Billy, Cathy, Peter, Maggie, Billy, Matt, Jimmy, Jim, Mary, Mary, Philip, Richard, Chris, Joey, Shawna, Grace, Marie, PJ, Paige, Collin, Joe, Gail, Lori, Noel, Leah, Karen, Michael, Tommy, Joe Joe, Dan, Abby, Madeline, Don.
And that's not the boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, friends whose names I can't recall right now.
These people were the army that showed up to form a phalanx of love and acceptance and joy around my family.
Some of them I hadn't seen in over 15 years, some of them I'd never met; yet here they were: Happy, fun, funny and as in love with my baby as I needed them to be. Without asking, without a question of doubt, they trusted and shepherded my boy that night.
They let him push their baby on a 10 minute walk across town in the dark (duh. yes. with help). They scooped him up and showed him all the painted pictures of sea creatures in the very, very loud restaurant we ended up in. And it bears mentioning that one of the cavalry who carried him around that first night, my cousin Billy, is not your average dude. Not in looks or psyche or approach to life. Billy (William O'Keefe) is a wildly talented painter and musician who lives on the streets in Cambridge, MA. He has an inarticulate mass of orange hair, the color of pumpkin flesh that lives by its own laws on top of his head. He's thin, bony. His face pale and chiseled. He smells of oil paints and cigarettes and Lincoln adores him. Explain that.
The answer is: FAMILY.
They shared their food and their laps and their water. Their laughs and dance moves and utter fucking love of life.
Lincoln fell asleep that first night in the arms of our sweet Mimi and we took turns carrying him back to the hotel with some of my cousins and the lovely Ruby.
And the next morning he woke up kissing my face and asking for "eat" and water and his iPad as my gorgeous cousin, Lori, in the next bed was saying the most wonderful things about him and his magical personality.
24 hours in and I was ALL IN. I never wanted to leave.
And that's not the boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, friends whose names I can't recall right now.
These people were the army that showed up to form a phalanx of love and acceptance and joy around my family.
Some of them I hadn't seen in over 15 years, some of them I'd never met; yet here they were: Happy, fun, funny and as in love with my baby as I needed them to be. Without asking, without a question of doubt, they trusted and shepherded my boy that night.
They let him push their baby on a 10 minute walk across town in the dark (duh. yes. with help). They scooped him up and showed him all the painted pictures of sea creatures in the very, very loud restaurant we ended up in. And it bears mentioning that one of the cavalry who carried him around that first night, my cousin Billy, is not your average dude. Not in looks or psyche or approach to life. Billy (William O'Keefe) is a wildly talented painter and musician who lives on the streets in Cambridge, MA. He has an inarticulate mass of orange hair, the color of pumpkin flesh that lives by its own laws on top of his head. He's thin, bony. His face pale and chiseled. He smells of oil paints and cigarettes and Lincoln adores him. Explain that.
The answer is: FAMILY.
They shared their food and their laps and their water. Their laughs and dance moves and utter fucking love of life.
Lincoln fell asleep that first night in the arms of our sweet Mimi and we took turns carrying him back to the hotel with some of my cousins and the lovely Ruby.
And the next morning he woke up kissing my face and asking for "eat" and water and his iPad as my gorgeous cousin, Lori, in the next bed was saying the most wonderful things about him and his magical personality.
24 hours in and I was ALL IN. I never wanted to leave.
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