Alfalfa, Missoula,Montana

Among the open spaces of our Alberta childhood home was a small alfalfa field along the road and bordered by untrimmed hedges. I remember our large family holding impromptu softball games on summer evenings. My mother was a crack hitter, but asthma precluded her from rounding the bases, so I was her designated runner. I took this role very seriously, and had no clue that I was otherwise too little to play. Looking back, I see the many ways my mother’s graciousness found ways to include people, no matter the type of gathering. To some extent, this gift rubbed off on us all. And for this I am grateful, because making room and inviting others to be a part often makes for more family - of the best kind.