We celebrated little things. We read books. We went on adventures. In March, that meant on an airplane. We ate junk. Exhausted, we slept. We played. And partied. I traveled to Tampa and LA and Washington and Oregon and Colorado and Cancun. I walked or ran in all of those places, sometimes stopping to take pictures. My boys and I also went on lots of walks to parks. Apartment living. But my apartment did have a pool. The other place I traveled to was the middle of nowhere. We got a flat tire. We fixed it ourselves. After two years of work, after writing a thesis and preparing a lecture and giving a reading, I graduated with my MFA. The boys took swimming lessons. Still, neither can really swim. Some days I looked at Brandon and saw not a little boy, but a young man. The boys every day became better friends than the last. For the second time, I ran Hood to Coast with my family. Holden still sucks his thumb, uses his blankie, and sits in the baby swings. I read some more. In 2018, I remembered what it is to work. I mean, I’ve never stopped working but I started working jobs that paid again, spent my early weekend mornings barista-ing. Evenings I spent working at the restaurant or with the kids. Mostly, Holden was naughty. Mostly, Brandon was nice. We moved into a new place and bought each other Christmas presents and decorated our tree and somehow, we managed our first year like this. My boys and I are feisty and stubborn together. There will be so many more years like this.