I was going to talk about where we live this week, but since we’re buried under snow at the moment, I decided to go back a little further.

This is the first picture I ever took of The Boy, just moments after he was born. They had cleaned him up and put him on the little warming table.

I don’t know that I have anything to say about his birth that isn’t an absolute cliché.

Whatever clarity I’d had in life before then had always been fleeting. But from the first day I have had a single consistent thought:

“Try not to fuck this up.”

I don’t know what else I was put on earth to do, but I’ve never doubted that he (and his mother) are a main part of it.

We’ve lived a bunch of places, but my sense of “place” includes people as much as anything else.