June 2000

June 2000 was a month wrapped in wonder. It was the month we welcomed our sweet son, Alex, into the world — a time of joy, awe, and a touch of the unknown as we stepped further into parenthood. In those warm Phoenix days and nights, life slowed into a rhythm of sunrise and sunset walks with Bo Bo up to Lookout Mountain Park, the scent of lantana and desert blooms clinging to the air. I thought often of my dad, who had passed just two years earlier — feeling his presence in the rustle of palm fronds when the wind would blow, as if he were quietly walking beside us.

There were moments of humor and adventure, like the evening we stumbled upon a pack of coyotes and found ourselves “hiding out” in a gated tennis court until they lost interest. There were late-night swims under velvet skies, afternoon monsoons rolling in with their slow, dramatic grace, and that unforgettable drive home from the hospital — me convinced the world was full of reckless drivers and homicidal maniacs , only to realize I was the one going half the speed limit with my precious cargo strapped int0 the backseat.

It was a month of anticipation and tenderness — of heat, light, and stillness — the very essence of summer, forever etched in my memory.