362/365

playing lawn games
at the park
the sun playing
hide and seek
with the clouds.
casting shadows
to cool us down.
families eating
and drinking
flying kites,
kids in the sand  love
with buckets and shovels.
she slides over
for a few stealth hugs,
i want to swallow her whole
to prove unconditional love.
why do we find it so
hard to communicate?
she points out an
old shirtless man
dismounting his bike
to listen to heavy metal.
she finds his actions cool-
every one of us perpetually
looking to build from fragile
to strength and back again.

303/365

maybe we’re in the car
just you and me driving you
to a friend’s house to celebrate
halloween and spend the night.
maybe i feel pretty hopeful
for the first time in weeks
noticing the density of the clouds
and how the sun makes the hood
shimmer and maybe you say that
one of the reasons you want a car and
to learn how to drive is to listen to loud
music and maybe i say that is definitely a top
five reason and maybe we listen to sublime,
bob marley, nirvana and pearl jam and maybe
i hold back tears while singing along,
one day the symptoms fade. think i’ll throw
these pills away and if hope could grow
from dirt like me. it can be done and maybe
i don’t want the drive to end and maybe i
want to say more, but i pretend like the lyrics
are enough and maybe i need to tell my parents
i love them when i speak to them and find ways
to make them happy and maybe it’s enough
to write this all down, wrap it in a book
and give it to you when i’m gone.

289/365

we played boggle
this afternoon
whilst listening
to new order
and depeche mode.
she’s tired
after a sleep over
i’m a bit hungover.
it’s hard to know
what to talk about:
when to make it serious
when to shoot the shit.  
when she was young(er)
i listened and took cues
from her questions.

there is too much silence
in adolescence to know
what to do with.

later that night
in the darkness
with friends
on the beach
with the roaches
and the avocado
and the wine
i have nothing
to say either.

maybe the secret
is nodding through
the silence,
watching the planes
take off and land
with us still yearning
and waiting for a chance
at freedom.

257/365

had to hit
pause today.
mix a brooklyn.
order a pizza.
don’t look at email.
on the couch with first born
watching my team.
pure distraction
bread and circus.  
looks like
sometimes things
do go your way.

245/365

watched dazed and confused
with my eldest today,
she’s probably too young,
but sometimes i’m too impatient
for her to grow up.
she had a rough day,
and we needed a bonding sesh.
so many memories rushed back
for me as she laughed in all
the right places- for what it’s worth
she got it, as far as there is anything to get-
the power of desperate boredom
and a yearning for an american adolescences
reeking of freedom and youthful rebellion.
she criticised the outdated problematic tropes
and grooved on all the right songs.

here she is on the edge of falling into
the age of indiscretion and recklessness.

all parents want their kids to experience it all,
but how do we live through the terror
of not knowing whether or not
we taught them enough to survive?

227/365

this one started in the morning with the
sun already too hot before it was even
fully positioned in the sky. a father. a daughter.
one eager. the other lethargic before
they even began to run. not even a kilometre in
one stops and claims a cramp. they walk for most
of the rest. one finds it hard not to showcase
his despondency. the other mopes behind him
to avoid a lecture on pushing through challenges.
people preach unconditional
love as if it’s easy. but who can be satisfied
when things aren’t how we like. every parental
disappointment is a mirror of missed opportunities
to have taught more clearly. we are chain links in our parents
attempts to be better versions of themselves.

this one ended in the evening with the
a thunderstorm. a father. a daughter.
this time the younger one ready for the first day
of middle school. you know what I don’t get-
he says earnestly and rehearsed- why do think
girls tend to lose confidence as they enter middle school,
even though they are brilliant and boys tend to
gain confidence without much to back it up- silence-
i mean take you for example. you’re the girl who played a set
at hard rock cafe in fourth grade and sang in tent plaza
all by yourself. you are vibrant and smart and loved
and a certifiable bad ass- a smile- what do you have
to be nervous about? channel your inner rebel girl
and own that place tomorrow- i’d get suspended dad!-
not necessarily. just be yourself and have fun doing it-
lights out. tucked in. kiss on the forehead. every parental
win is a mirror of successful opportunities
to get it just right. we are chain links in our parents
attempts to be better versions of themselves.

221/365

they’re running.
the light casting shadows
the color of honey.
a flimsy blonde breeze
cuts the tropical heat,
making the evening bearable.

they’re running.
father and daughter
four point nine eight
kilometers tonight
through the park
on a national holiday.
they dodge babies
in strollers, runners,
and toddlers on bikes.

they’re running.
she begrudgingly at fifteen
he sanguine at middle age.
it’s getting easier.
she walks less.
less defiant.
gives him control
of the music
more often.

they’re running.
passed the flags
the ocean beyond,
littered with wind surfers
and tanker ships.
songs from his youth
and his current band’s set list
push them forward.

they’re running.
some of those that work forces
are the same that burn crosses.
leavin' on a southern train
only yesterday
you lied
promises
of what i seemed to be

they’re running.
almost home.
point two kilometres left.
let’s run this as fast as we can,
he pleads. she starts
to pick up speed.
is this a race? will he catch her?
they awkwardly high five
in the end. something has changed.

they’re
running.
togther.

206/365

isolation and time
make dumplings from scratch,
liquored cherries and spicy pickles.
they clean the car,
encourage midday bloody mary’s
and early evening runs in crowded
parks with your daughter, listening
to true crime podcasts about one
of the worst series killers in history,
the sun bathes the small man-made lake,
as she struggles to keep up, but you listen
to the gruesome tales to bond and stay connected,
worrying that she may need more
joy and inspiration in her life,
later you watch a film about michelle obama,
holding back tears and rubbing away goosebumps,
hoping the daughters felt something akin to hope.
wonder what kinds of stories they’ll tell about you
when you are gone.

latent legacy-
everyday one less chance
to get it right.

204/365

growing a garden of weeds
just because it’s green.
saturday starts watering the porch.
skye blue. sun bright. day wideopen.

he asks her join him for a few errands.
he needs bar supplies in chinatown:
a mixing glass, coupe glasses, a fine citrus strainer.
one for three. they grab ice cream. they don’t argue.

in the car the music’s louder than mom likes,
but it’s just father and daughter.
first born. middle aged man.
nineties rock. each one gets a song.
she keeps up. listen to this trumpet part.
it kills me every time, he points out.
she waves her hands to the beat.

next stop guitar shop:
test out a new amp,
grab some picks and a guitar stand.
next stop the art store:
water color pens, new sketch pad, tiny notebooks.
she asks him why he doesn’t draw more often.
he fumbles with an excuse
and thinks he should draw more.

she asks where it hurts most to get tattooed
he draws her a map. where did she come from this
piece of him, unraveling into her own person?

at home they excavate a box of his
old journals, letters, photos,  
she’s old enough to probe
the pg-thirteen material.

what does she need to know
about who he’s been
to become who
she needs to be?

we are more than who
we are in the present.
he leaves a few journals
on a shelf, hoping the proximity
keeps parts of him alive for her.

growing a garden of weeds
just because it’s green.
water any life you see.
keep the soil moist.

189/365

the baby turned fifteen
today. she was in good spirits
as we lazed about. consuming junk
food and junk media. we laughed. how can
a poem be written to do any of this
justice. children become real people
like sun light unfurling at dawn. it happens
everyday. cyclical. aging. she unwrapped
her gifts and was gentle, graceful, grateful.
i remember a conversation with my mother
a few weeks ago, about how unfair it is- the
blame children lay at their parents feet.
all i can hope for is that we are doing no harm.
little damage. as we erect boundaries and expect
accountability. at school we discuss the impracticality
of teaching and assessing dispositions, virtues and values.
fifteen years into this process and it still feels like
we’re feeling our way around in the dark.

the baby turned fifteen
today. she was in good spirits. there is
still so much i need to tell her.

188/365

i bought my first journal when i was nineteen.
my father had just left for iran and given me
a few of his old diaries. i remember skimming
the farsi text and recognising his drawing style.
although i knew it held secrets. i’m not sure why i never
read it with any depth. it was more necessary to uncover
my own thoughts. as a child you experimented with
a variety of notebooks. often wasting them by drawing
on a few pages and throwing them away. on this
your fifteenth birthday i give you this journal
to document your journey in prose and verse and lyric
and drawing and dreams and wishes. i hope it lures
you to the edge of your passions and allows you
to explore the depths of your self and the world around you.
always remember there is no such thing as talent. there
is only practice and craft. spill yourself in these pages
and appreciate the pieces you will find.

68/365

hey dad, “look what i learned.”
she strums a ukulele and sings a folk song.
the other one hones a riff she’s caught
like a melodic disease
on the lost guitar
i restrung over the weekend,
which is now her’s and lives in her room.

that’s six guitars and a ukulele in the house.

back to the first one,
playing an arpeggio on the keyboard.
we might need a mandolin or
an old french music box.
hard to imagine the sounds
one can make
without the instruments at hand
to make them.

“time for bed.”
“one more song please.”
“i want the lights off in five minutes.”
the last song takes the tiny stage of her bed.
i let her play it a few times,
because i do not underestimate
the weight of a quiet song
sang softly to oneself.

in the living room,
the day’s been long
tending to other people’s children.
i tend the ledger of my own parenting
hoping i’m in the black.

63/365

i’ve left small pieces of myself
across time in every book
on my book self
in the guise of folded pages,
circles and stars and exclamation points,
highlighted words, lines, and passages,
like a trail of bread crumbs
into the forest
of my past, present and future—
waiting for the day
your adamantine curiosoty
coupled with my counsel
leads us both to a place
that feels familiar.
i bequeath you
these texts
weather worn
and well traveled.
out beyond ideas
of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field.
i’ll meet you there.

Tender Act

Instilling confidence in a 12 year old girl is a tender, intricate and vital act. It is not easy, but everyday we work at it.

_________________________________________________________________________________

You were at your desk drawing tonight frustrated because the drawing wasn’t perfect, and you said, “if it wasn’t perfect nobody would like it,” and although you didn’t say it, I have been teaching long enough and alive long enough to know that your statement actually meant, “if I’m not perfect, no one will like me.”

I am not sure how to prove to you that this thinking is false. Maybe some part of it is is true, there will be people who will not like you. They’ll have a litany of reasons and few of them will have anything to do with you. I know what it’s like to be in seventh grade and want to be noticed, accepted, liked. The alternative feels so lonely. But what other people think matters much less than who you think about yourself.

Everyone else seems so much more beautiful and smart and talented and athletic and artistic. How do they do it? How does the world seem so well put together and you feel so raw and broken and unfinished?

You ready for the secret? The truth?

The answer beyond the cliche bullshit of 10,000 hours of practice and growth mindset?

The answer is that they are not.

The world is a mess and so is everyone in it. We are all riddled with anxiety and insecurity and feeling small and inadequate and imperfect. We all just have different ways of masking it.

The first step is not to care too much what everyone thinks. Then maybe you can move onto not caring what anyone thinks. You are in a state of flux, of growth, of change, of evolution. We all are. All the time. Forever.

You cannot be overly concerned with how you appear to be in the eyes of others, until you learn to love the person you are becoming when you look in the mirror. This is no easy task, but you need to dedicate your life to loving yourself.

I can tell you that you are beautiful and perfect and smart and wonderful and the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I can hope that you will believe me and trust me and love me for loving you, but the road forward can be a lonely one. You will need to find yourself by yourself. I am here to help you and guide you and share my wisdom and experience, and I will never leave you alone or abandon you, but there is only so much I can tell you or show you, before you need to face yourself and accept and love what you see.

You might not draw the way you want. Or look the way you want. Or be as popular as you want. Or have that one true friend, but this too shall all pass. I was a scrawny, lonely, miserable little dude when I was your age, but there was a fire in my belly. I’m not sure where that fire came from or who put it there, but once I felt it’s heat I fanned those flames to see me through the hard times. Even now, as an adult there are days when loving myself is not so easy, but despite my own constant evolution, I am here to help you find a way to recognise your flame and learn how to blow it into an inferno.

I think we both need to be patient. A few things that I hope you keep in mind- the advice that I give you is not nagging or judging or criticism of who you are.  My wisdom is born of experience and delivered from love. From the second you were born, all I have wanted was for you to be who you were meant to be. Lately, I feel that I am letting you down. Every parenting move feels like a misstep, but we are a team and this phase of your life shall blend into the next, and we will work through it together.

Here are a few things to keep in mind:

• Be kind and patient with yourself. 
• Becoming you takes time and can sometimes hurt. 
• Everyone carries a heavy load be nice to them. 
• As soon as you figure one thing out there are a million news things begging to be explored.  
• Music cures most things and what it doesn’t that’s what books are for.
• Most of confidence is just pretending to be confident. 
• No one knows what they’re doing and most people are terrified most of the time. 
• Envision who you want to be and walk toward that person. 
• It’s okay to feel anxious. 
• You are not alone.
• You can always talk to me. 
• I will never judge you. 
• I love you. 

Joy

Tonight, as I sit typing on this quiet Christmas Eve, waiting for the kids to fall asleep, so we can wrap the presents and put them under the tree, I want to write about joy.


Anyone reading my posts the last few weeks, may have noticed a lack of joyful posts. The reasons for my somber posts should have already been made clear, so tonight I will not dwell on the past, but focus on the present- this moment. Tonight. And the meaning of joy.


I want to write about how joy is sometimes the simple awareness of reality. I am not one prone to elation. I've had my moments, but my times of pure jubilation are not too common. I am not sure how others receive or spread joy. I am a quiet about it and seldom make a fuss. This reserved behavior might be mistaken for joylessness or worse a quiet despair, this is not, in fact, true


Let me tell you about today’s joy:


At lunch, Kaia was asking about the nativity story. Marin and I did our best to fill in the blanks. It was a hodge-podge retelling for sure and I felt the need to add some historic context about how the Romans had occupied Israel and a few details about the crucifixion that had Skyelar pretty freaked out, but Kaia seemed interested.


The conversation spilled over into our walk to the movies: We talked Genesis and the Bible; Kaia was a bit taken aback that according to Christians, only people who accept Jesus as their personal savior are allowed into heaven. We spoke about sin and Islam and the patriarchy. We spoke about Greek myths and the power of folklore and storytelling, we spoke of ancient people and how Science has revealed so many thing we didn’t know about in the past. We spoke of evolution and the big bang, of Persian culture, and the invasion of Muslims to Iran in the 1300s. We spoke of Farsi and traditions. We spoke a lot. She asked many questions and pondered in the silences.


“I just don’t understand why so many people think they are right, when they can’t all be right. Why not just try to accept the fact that we are all different? ” This brings me joy.


The AC in our car is broken. Today as we drove home in the rain, the inside of our car felt like a furnace. The windows were fogged up, we were sweating and a horn heavy Diana Krall X-mas carol had me wishing for death. We were tired and cranky, but as I sat there sweating my mind drifted to the many chappa rides I endured in Mozambique. I thought back to the hours and miles I collected suffering quietly in the name of adventure.


I thought about how soft I have become in my old age. Sitting in the comfort of my own car, with my family, complaining about the heat. This somersault of the past and the present brought me joy.


We watched the Griswald Christmas Vacation movie tonight and Mairin was a bit nervous that it would be inappropriate, and oh boy was it. The language. The weird sexual innuendoes. All of it was weird and fun and magical. Our kids are so sheltered sometimes that it was fun to discuss what it means to “shit bricks.”


We watched the movie. I had a glass of wine in my new red wine glass, no more plastic cups for me. We ate cookies and laughed and relaxed. This brings me joy.


Joy is not a state of ecstasy for me. Joy is being awake to my life as it passes by. Small photographs and memories. Tiny dreams come true. The realization that this is life. Everyday. Everything. It is all here to enjoy and devour and ponder and live through.


I hope that you are able to glimpse a few of these moments, and capture the fleeting flakes of joy as they fall around you.

Football Student

The day started with football. Well breakfast and then football.


Marin had to go to school to work on a paper that is due for her class all day, so the girls and I were home all day. Although, my ankle is slowly getting better, I am not quite ready to drive, so we were house-bound for most of the day, but no worries because there was a crucial Raider game to watch and we were stoked. Well Kaia and I were, Skye lost interest after the first drive and succumbed to playing with dolls and eventually some screen time in the other room.


Kaia on the other hand was like a sponge. I mapped out a few diagrams to make sure she had a better understanding of the game and before long she was mapping each drive. Saying things like, “we can’t have another turn-over this time.” Or, “Oh my god that sneak up out of nowhere hit was awesome!”


She quickly understood downs and yardage and showed a basic understanding of field position, and even how the offensive line is crucial to a running game. We talked about the role of each position and eventually got to discussing pulling guards and putting pressure on a quarterback. It was a good first game.


What was even better was how involved she was with each play throughout the game. We were on the edge of our seats in the fourth quarter; her cheering, enthusiasm and pure joy after the win made it that much more amazing for me. Cannot wait to watch the last few games, the playoffs and who knows? Maybe the Superbowl with her. She may need a Raider shirt of her own. I’m on it.


The rest of the afternoon was pretty mellow. Lunch. Some reading. Three hours by the pool. The girls played really well together while I read and even took a tiny nap poolside.


Mairin was home for a quick dinner at Bergs, before she was back to Starbucks for more work. We’ve got the mid-seam finale of Walking Dead cued up, and I'm a bit nervous what Neagan might do.


We were supposed to be in Thailand tonight, but some idiot broke his ankle and so we cancelled the trip. The sun, the sand, the ocean would have been great, and I am super bummed that I forced our whole family to stay here, but at the end of the day we need rest, healing and some time to just do what we did today. Not much on the agenda tomorrow either.


I think I am a few days away from driving which will be a nice step forward. Speaking of steps, the limp is less, the pain more stiffness than pain and the ankle scab all but gone. The human body is an miraculous thing.


The Raiders are in the playoffs for the first time since 2002. Hoping they can win the last two games, win the AFC, have a bye and see the Patriots late in the playoffs. To beat them in the AFC championship game, would be a dream cone true. But I am getting ahead of myself. We need a win against the desperate Colts next week. I wish the Raiders played more than one time a week. It feels too long to wait until next Sunday to see what happens next.

Numb

Well that felt like 0-60.


Had a full day today. Was at school from 7:30am to 3:00pm. Taught two classes. Did some marking and then went to a meeting about Learning Spaces after school. The foot was feeling okay for most of the day. It was pretty swollen, but I tried to stay off of it as much as I could. It is amazing how far everything feels on crutches and how exhausting it can be just to get to lunch.


The killer was that we stayed after school until six pm to see Kaia’s recital, which was great and super worth it, but after a week and a half of bed-rest, a nearly twelve-hour day was pretty intense. My foot feels kind of numb right now with a strange prickling burning sensation on the top, but let’s pretend that is normal. I’ve got two classes early tomorrow, so I will go in and teach those, do some work on an assembly I am trying to organize for Thursday and maybe call it an early day tomorrow.


Everyone has been very kind and considerate and looks at me like I am crazy to be at school. “It looks so swollen.” They say and it is, but not as much as it has been. I need to be there. It is the last stretch and it feels okay to do what I am doing. It’s uncomfortable at the end of the day, but there are not many days left.


At one point tonight, after Kaia’s piece was over, we were sitting there listening to a few other students play their pieces and my mind began to drift. The drummers played along with a song track and one of my former students, who is in high school now, played Numb by Linkin Park, one of my favorite songs. He was nailing it and in some magical bizarre moment it all felt pretty transcendental.


My foot was throbbing and numb and ached from the long day. My mind was drifting and blank and utterly focused on the song and for a few disconnected seconds I felt fully alive and free. Yes, I was sitting there with a broken bone nearly two weeks after surgery, but I could feel it healing and the music told me that the future was just around the corner and that although someone said to me today in passing, only slightly joking, “Men your age shouldn’t be on skateboards,” I knew that she was wrong.


Men my age can and should do whatever we feel like. Sure we make mistakes and over-reach and hurt ourselves and ruin plans and make life difficult for those around us, but without taking these risks what are we doing? We cannot live our lives if we are always feeling the need to live a life that is overly cautious.


Enrico was pounding on the drums. Linkin Park was singing:


I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,
Become so tired, so much more aware
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you.


I am not sure who the "you" is at this point. Perhaps just a doubting voice in my head. I was tired and hurting, but I was alive damn it and fully aware of my existence, some say this is the path to nirvana. I don’t know about all that, for me it was the end of a long Tuesday in early December and I wasn’t feeling too sorry for myself. And that felt more right than anything has felt in a while.

B-Ball and Beer

I was supposed to run a half-marathon today. Somewhere in a warehouse or garbage bin sits my number bib and tank top. Run might be a tad too optimistic of a verb, I was not ready for this run even before I fractured my ankle. My plan was to have a pre-dawn walk-about to clear my head and sort my thoughts. A slow jog here. A comfortable walk there, beneath the slowly rising sun, through the streets of Singapore, to help me think about and plan my litany of new year’s resolutions. I was looking forward to three hours alone to align my priorities. But that was before the fall. The break. The bed rest.


There would be no dawn. No walk. No run. No need for any of that contemplative malarkey. I have been in bed for over a week. That is enough time to overthink everything and than think about it again.


I was out today. Twice. The sun was out too. I wore sunglasses and watched the girls play basketball. So fun watching them ratchet up their intensity and start to grasp the basic skills. Then home and rest and some work. Read a few grade 6 stories and began the grade 6 weekly mentor presentation.


Later Kaia and I did a home share with her writing and it’s so cool seeing her progress. I can’t help but compare her to the grade 6 kids I teach. I know she still has half a year to go, but every time I talk to her, or every time I teach my kids, I think about whether she would like the assignment, or think about whether or not she will be okay in grade 6. Today’s share put my heart at ease. The girl is starting to learn to write.


We finished Captain Fantastic and then outing number two- met friends at Brewerkz for an early evening dinner. Nice chat with friends. Good food. Setting sun. Cold beer.


My ankle is throbbing something fierce, but it was worth it being out in the world and interacting with people again. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and I am hoping that the open surgery wound will be closed and water-proof, and I am looking forward to a half day at work.

Healing

Today was a good one. I didn’t leave the house again, but I had the company of my kids and some more rest. Marin and Kaia were off to sewing and errands in the morning, so Skye and I hung out a bit. Played some games. Some music and watched a few Beat Bugs. It’s a bit babyish but she is loving The Beatles songs. Every episode features two random Beatles songs. So now she can be heard playing around the house singing Come Together and Lucy in the Skye with Diamonds. Then while she played alone for a while I had a nice catch up chat with Anthony.


Then Skye was off to a birthday party and Kaia was home. We haven’t hung out just the two of us in a while and it felt good to catch up. Erin popped over for a nice visit with Orion and then Kaia and I watched Captain Fantastic. It was a bit slow and over her head, but Kaia was intrigued by their life style and amazed that the kids could swear so freely. I told her that for the time we were alone this afternoon she could swear all she wanted, but she was still a bit timid. We didn’t get to finish it because it was getting late and Mairin and Skye came home. Next time.

Finished the night off with our annual Christmas kick off viewing of Elf.

I did become obsessed with my phone throughout the day. The Trump Taiwan thing was hanging over my head, but I am want to work on getting better at ignoring his every jack ass move, but he is like a drug and I am addicted. It just seems so unbelievable that this is our reality. This is the world now. We all live in a reality TV show.

Read up on the Joe McNight story and was appalled. Researched the stand off in North Dakota and was appalled.

But this was meant to be a happy post about a happy day I spent with my kids. The name Noam Chomsky is now in Kaia’s universe and that makes me smile. I may have stood up a bit too often today, with the shower and making dinner, so my ankle is throbbing, swollen and hurts a bit, but I felt more like a human today than I have in the last week.

Rewarding With Pain

It was around six pm. The sun was low in the sky and the concrete was a glow in golden light. The park was not too crowded and I felt confident. I had just rolled into some ramps that had scared me before and was feeling the flow. It as the first time in weeks that I felt awake. Alert. Alive.


I had promised myself to push myself a bit during this session, and take a few bigger risks. After a small fall, I was exhilarated by the feeling of my flesh hitting the concrete. My shoulder stung a little, but I was pushed forward by a sense of invincibility. The wheels buzzing. My knees bent. The balance achieved.


I had been skating for forty-five minutes and was getting tired. I had a good day and it was time to drink some water and call it a day. Kaia was doing some ramp work with her teacher and was a bit low on energy. Her Wednesdays are crazy. He was spotting her, but her heart wasn’t in it. She barely bent her knees and you could tell she was nervous. It wasn’t a good day for her.


I had watched her drop into a ramp from the rail for a few sessions and emboldened by my success, I wanted to inspire her a bit.


“Listen Kaia, we are almost done. If you put 100% into this one and really bend your knees and lean forward and get into it, I will give this ramp a try.”


I am not sure why I thought this was a good idea or why no one tried to stop me, but next thing you know I was up the ramp. it wasn't big, but I had never done anything like it before. I had just learned a roll in a few minutes before.


“What could go wrong? You have all the pads on.” Shawn said casual.


My first run I leaned back a little and caught myself on my elbows. It wasn’t as hard as it looked and I knew with an adjustment I could do it. I was back on the ramp. Then I was down. I didn’t feel myself leaning back, but the video clearly shows that I did not bend my knees or lean forward.


My ankle went under and I knew that something was wrong. The pain was sudden and intense like a wave or a hammer on an anvil. I saw white as I took off my helmet and tried to catch my breath.


Kaia looked scared and I tried to calm her down, but I was pretty shocked myself. I saw my ankle and it looked twisted. Kaia’s teacher was saying it looked bad and Shawn’s face was not reassuring.


Long story short- They pushed me to the car, one foot on a board. Marin drove me to the hospital and a bone in my ankle area is fractured and has moved back into place. Pretty bad.


I’m currently in the hospital and will have surgery in the morning to add a plate and screws to move the bone back in place. The doctor is optimistic about recovering time. I will wait and see. I hope this doesn’t mean we have to cancel Thailand. We all really needed that break.


I may have to spend the night here tomorrow night just in case. Will see after surgery.


A few lessons learned here:

1. I am not nineteen. This lesson seems to be hard for me to really learn. 
2. End on a high note. When you have success, just soak in it for a while, no need to push yourself until you fail, or break your bones.
3. Skateboarding is dangerous and fun and exciting and should never be underestimated. People make it look easy, but when you are starting it is not. 
4. Sometimes taking risks is rewarding. 
5. Sometimes taking risks ends with pain. 

I’m in a hospital room alone and it is time for sleep. What a strange way to end my three week run.