A Perfect Circle

Spirit Signs That Say, "I Remember"

Hello Fellow Wonderers,

Our family celebrated the birthday of my spirit son, Henry, on March 6th, 2026. The restless days leading up to it were like our Wisconsin weather, a wintery mix. Dark clouds of somber, sun peeks of smiles, peaceful starry silence broken by bolts of laughter, a drizzle of wishing for the old times, followed by a light breeze of acceptance.

One family member sent a cheerful bouquet. Another sent a mix of aged cheeses to contribute to our annual cheese tasting tradition in Henry’s honor. Others sent thoughtful texts or phoned in to share loving thoughts.

If there is one thing I have learned about the annual celebration of Henry’s birth, it is that although I may know some of the things we have scheduled, I do not know everything that is going to happen, and there may be a surprise or two from Henry’s perch - from his side of the veil.

Read on to follow the timeline that is a build-up to the encounter…………

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In May of 1992, on a Wednesday afternoon, I was folding the laundry. I sorted an eclectic pile of socks, some kitchen towels, some boys-sized pajamas, soccer shorts, and jerseys. Henry was 7, and Emmett was 4. My biological timer was set to pick them up from school and preschool shortly. I glanced at the clock. I had a thought.

I sifted the thought through my brain’s sifter for a brief moment and headed out the door, down the hall, and knocked on the door of Sims’ studio.

“C’mon in,” he answered. Head down, his curls pulled back in a ponytail, his desk covered with musical charts, pencils, a red telephone, highlighters, and a vintage desk lamp with a long, searing, fluorescent tube - Sims was deeply steeped in his work.

“Let’s go to Europe in two years when we turn 40,” I said.

Without lifting his head from his papers, he handed me a pad of our new and modern yellow sticky notes.

“ Write it down,” he said.

I grabbed the nearest BIC and wrote my sentence down. I handed it back to Sims over his left shoulder. He glanced up at his corkboard and gave the note a good, solid pierce with a brass thumb tack.

“Cool,” I said, as I closed the door behind me and headed back to my folding.

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By the time July of ’94 rolled around, two years later, we had gigs booked in Germany, France, Slovenia, Austria, Italy, Holland, England, and Ireland.

Henry was 9, and come September, little Emmett would make a wish and blow out the 6 candles that glowed in a perfect circle on a fine lemon cake, in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

We gigged through the hottest Summer Europe had experienced in 100 years.

The cooler temperatures of Ireland in early autumn felt wonderful.

We had sent our band mates home and were spending the last three weeks of the trip traveling, visiting old friends, and meeting new cousins. We traveled to Northern Ireland to meet Sims’ relatives, and County Kerry, Ireland, to meet mine.

We received the finest Irish hospitality wherever we went. We fell in love with the beauty, the music, the language, the ancients, the food, the roads, the fields, the streams, and the scent. The wonderful, warm, earthy scent of the burning logs of peat as it rises from the chimneys. The scent invites warmth, conversation, ancestral meanderings, and laughter.

Come mid-September, our return home was bittersweet. The boys adjusted to another school year, and so did Sims and I.

Fifteen months later, I saw an ad in the newspaper. Aer Lingus was offering a special price for December flights. The offer was a fit for our family. We dialed up the phone number in the ad and purchased two buy-one-get-one-free tickets for $250.00 each.

We landed in Dublin on December 7th, 1995. We experienced Ireland in her “dark days”. The sun set in the afternoon, and the children walked home in near darkness. The weather was cold and damp, and the peat rose from the chimneys and perfumed the air all day long and into the pitch of night. Once again, we all fell in love with Ireland.

Irish ways crept into our blood. Once we returned home, word began to spread that our home held open doors for any traveling musicians. We offered them Irish hospitality and were enriched by their music from all around the world. Our cassette player swirled an assortment of tapes we had brought home from Ireland, and our guests had left behind as gifts. We memorized lyrics, and the boys learned to play a few tunes on their penny whistles.

And on very special occasions, we burned a small brick of peat. As the smoke would rise, we could once again breathe in the luscious scent of the country we love most in this world.

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In September of 2011, Sims and I celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary with Henry and Emmett, and all of the Irish friends and relatives we had grown close to over the years.

We were invited to join in Irish music sessions as a family, and the boys jammed at after parties with Irish musicians their own age. We walked the beaches, tossed ourselves into the wind on the mountain tops, and followed our hearts down inroads that got smaller and smaller with every mile. Forever will all of us hold these experiences in our hearts and spirits.

Henry and Emmett ride the wind on top of Slieve League, County Donegal, Ireland

“It was an epic trip,” Henry shared with his friend when we returned home. And he then proceeded to save a hefty stash of money and invite his best friend, his brother, Emmett, to head back to the Emerald Isle the following October. Another trove of epic adventures was had.

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On Thursday, March 5th, 2026, I felt like a jitterbug with mixed emotions that stirred within. I felt the depth of missing Henry as a sadness, the wondering questions of his current existence as a ponderance, the warmth in my heart in anticipation of our family being together, as pure love and joyful excitement. And so…I walked the dog.

While walking, I kept my head down. I was intense, thoughtful, and thorough.

I received a thought. I sifted through it.

I will burn a bit of the peat we have when we are all together tomorrow night. That will pull us together in a warm and cozy way.

I looked up then, and smiled with enjoyment at the cloudless sky.

“This is a beautiful day,” I thought.

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On Friday, March 6th, 2026, I was behind on the grocery shopping and all preparations. My energy level was on the frumpy side, even though my heart was filled with love. I had anticipated an easy-going day with no rushes, but the morning involved a garage door repairman, and little self-made distractions like laundry and superficial scrolling.

Finally, the clock ticked louder, I sat down to make a list, asked Sims if he’d like to go to the grocery store, and we bundled up, said the usual “We’ll be right back,” to our dog, Ila, and headed out the back door.

The screen door closed gently behind us as we stepped out into the brisk, breezy day. I led the way down the four back steps.

“That smells like peat,” I called behind me to Sims. I stopped walking. I inhaled.

“That sure does smell like peat, woah,” Sims said, looking around him left to right.

“That is intense! That really smells like peat!” I was tickled, curious, and I began to wonder about Henry. I wondered if he was with us.

“ You’re not kidding! I’m going to check the house,” Sims took two steps at a time up through the back porch.

We were in a bit of a hurry, but we have a wood-burning stove, and it was best to check.

I took strides around to the side of the house to peek at our chimney. This is from Henry, I thought a bit excited now, as I rounded the patio table.

“Everything’s fine,” Sims shrugged as he hopped down the steps.

“We have a little smoke coming out of our chimney, but….,” I joined him back in the circle of peat scent…back in the charmed circle of our loving spirit son, and us.

Together, in silence, we inhaled short, staccato breaths and sifted through our own thoughts and memories.

Together, improvising and unrehearsed, we lingered, our eyes musing on the trees and sky. Our world was briefly obscured by our wonder at this gift.

And then, like all smoke rises and disappears, the scent was gone.

I cleared a space on the corner of the kitchen counter that evening and struck a match to light our small brick of Irish peat. The air was perfumed with familiarity and wafts of epic days gone by, as we relaxed and indulged in Henry’s favorite cheeses and caught up with one another in our usual, everyday back-and-forth, spirited banter.

Life is a gift , I thought, as I took a step back to take in my wonderful family.

The music created for this audio story is a snippet of a piece that was composed and recorded by Henry. I hope you enjoy it.