One thing this project is doing is reinforcing the relentless nature of time. I can barely catch my breath. Each day, another year gone.

3 days before jack is born

1989: I’m pregnant again. On Valentine’s Day, after a belated 8th birthday/skating party for Kathleen, I’m standing in the den. One minute, I’m fine; the next, not. I have the flu. I can only take Tylenol, not even extra strength. After a week, I go back to work. The next thing I know, I have fever again–a sinus infection. Every day for another week, Cal comes home at four when the housekeeper has to leave. As I lie in bed, I can see the files and articles piling up at the office. Kathleen and Bobby need new shoes, spring clothes. I can’t do it all. I stop work at the end of May. Jack is born September 22nd, three days after Bobby’s 2nd birthday. For the first time, they give me oxygen, and while Cal puts on scrubs, my doctor stands beside me watching the heart rate monitor. Then he kicks the brake on the bed and wheels me into the delivery room himself, Cal behind him. Jack is delivered in seconds–the cord was wrapped around his neck. But all is well. A month later, as I’m sitting on the sofa nursing Jack with the World Series about to start, Cal arrives home and rushes through the den to change clothes. Before he can get back, an earthquake rocks San Francisco. A few weeks later, the Berlin Wall comes tumbling down.

28 days to 60


Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver