New beginnings, new returns
After almost a year away, I return to work next week.
Zoya will be starting daycare early in the week, and both L and I start work shortly after that.
My worry is palpable: I worry about how Zoya will do at daycare and how she will adapt; I worry about how we will juggle new schedules and do meal prep and still make time to spend with each other; I worry about making sure I provide the support L needs as she transitions back to work; I worry about going back to a workplace that has functioned so well in my absence and what my role on the team will be; I worry about being away for too long and for the struggle that comes with any transition; I worry about not knowing enough, not being enough—at work, at home, everywhere.
There is excitement in the worry, of course. I’m excited for my little girl to grow up and make new friends in a new environment. I’m excited for my wife to return to the incredible work she does to help others on a daily basis. I’m excited for the challenges that my job gives me, and for the opportunity to do meaningful work that has an impact on the lives of others. I’m excited for what our family will grow and evolve into after this new transition.
Returning to work after so long feels a bit like the first day of school: a mix of nerves and anticipation and uncertainty and apprehension and a little bit of confusion. Like the first day of school, there is much to do to prepare, but there’s also only so much that can be done. New beginnings—new returns—can feel daunting and invigorating at the same time, and as much as we do to get ready for the newness to come, in the end, all we can do is jump headfirst into the change and embrace it for what it is.
Next week, everything changes. Yes, I’m a little (a lot) worried, and I’m a little excited, but mostly I’m ready—ready for the new experiences, new joys, and new adventures that await our little family. Let the new beginnings begin.
Magpies Recognize Themselves in the Mirror
Kelli Russell Agodon
The night sounds like a murder
of magpies and we’re replacing our cabinet knobs
because we can’t change the world, but we can
change our hardware. America breaks my heart
some days, and some days it breaks itself in two.
I watched a woman have a breakdown in the mall
today and when the security guard tried to help her
what I could see was all of us
peeking from her purse as she threw it
across the floor into Forever 21. And yes,
the walls felt like another way to hold us in
and when she finally stopped crying,
I heard her say to the fluorescent lighting, Some days
the sky is too bright. And like that we were her
flock in our black coats and white sweaters,
some of us reaching our wings to her
and some of us flying away.
In praise of small menus: my favorite restaurants are those that tell me what to eat, rather than have me pick. Small menus are the best; tasting menus, even better.
Just how bad is America’s drinking problem? Makes you rethink your whole relationship to drinking.
I haven’t had a commute in over five years now, but still miss it—so much so that I’d often “commute” to a coffee shop here to simulate one.
I love the idea of eating “foods that are eaten to simply fuck around,” and can’t wait to try a tandoori momo one day.
“We’re all living in the wreckage of the “set it and forget it” mentality, our world strewn with the toxic repercussions of ill-conceived decisions made worse by a culture of willful neglect.”
The rise of elevated stupidity: “Don’t answer the foolish arguments of fools, or you will become as foolish as they are.”
As an avowed adorer of chilaquiles, this article outlining the histories of chilaquiles and migas made me very hungry.
Maybe we should be paying what services are worth, rather than a heavily subsided rate.
My 20s were pretty great, but things have just gotten better as I’ve aged. A reminder: your 20s don’t have to be the ‘best time of your life’
You’ve been waiting for this: a history of the original Space Jam website.
Back in the pre-pandemic and pre-baby days, I had a lot of errand hangs with friends. I miss them tons.
We’ve been enjoying watching Lupin recently, so I was compelled by this profile of the show’s star, Omar Sy.
A stunning interactive piece on what the Tulsa Race Massacre destroyed
Canada needs to do this with its relationship to the genocide of the Indigenous people here: Germany faced its horrible past. Can we do the same?
One day, when I’m able to go see live theatre again—who knows when that might be—I’d like to see a production of Blindness like this one.
I’m obsessed with these topographical maps by East of Nowhere and would like one on my wall.
These “bent reality” images made by Cream Electric Art for a United Airlines ad campaign are stunning.
Can’t get enough of these embroidered forest landscapes by Katrin Vates.
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