Author / Jim Cota

Posts by Jim Cota

Jim lives in Indianapolis with his wife and four kids and feels lucky to work with the fine folks at Rare Bird. An occasional writer, tweeter, and shooter. If you need to know anything else about me, this should do it...

"Living in Heaven will be fun…"

dsc_2044The kids took the news of Granddad’s death pretty well. We had prepared them, somewhat, for what was to come and, truthfully, their ability to cope with news and events of this sort dwarfs mine.

So it was really no surprise, though interesting, when Grace became the self-appointed escort at the visitation. Several times, she’d take someone’s hand and lead them up the center aisle to visit with Granddad. “You can touch him,” I overheard her telling someone.

A couple days later, Char is talking with Jack and he asked, “Mom, will you be in Heaven with me?” Playing on his devilish behavior, she answered, “Oh, Jack, I hope you make it to Heaven with me!” We all laughed, and then Grace and Abby began having a side conversation and Abby said, “Grace, living in Heaven will be fun: Granddaddy and Grandpa will be there. Jesus will be there… And you get to live in a box!”

How to fly a kite

From Jack’s 1st Grade creative writing notebook:

How to fly a kite:
    1. You get a kite.
    2. You hold on to the kite and handle and run.
    3. Let go of the kite but not the handle.
    4. Then let it fly!!!! but do not stop running.
    5. Then stop running.
    6. Scroll the rope back.
    7. Take the kite back home.
    8. Then go to sleep.
    9. And say to yourself, “What a day I had!”

    "I can’t hear you!"


    Char went down to Florida last week to help her mom get back on her feet after emergency appendectomy surgery. She flew down there with the twins and left Lily and Jack home with me. (Much to their chagrin, I can tell you. The week started with Abby bragging about getting to fly on an airplane before either of them.)

    Apparently, Abby packed her attitude for the trip. While swimming, she hit Grace in the face with one of those foam noodles. Grace yelled, “Mom! Abby hit me with her noodle!”

    Char turned and began to correct her. “Abby,” she started, “please don’t hit…”

    At that moment, Abby put her head back to move her ears under the water and said, “I can’t hear you!”

    [View more photos from their trip]

    “I’m sorry, Dad.”

    So, the night before last, Jack has the idea that he knows how to make it snow. He puts his pajamas on inside out, flushes an ice cube down the toilet, and sleeps with a spoon under his pillow.

    He wakes up to pouring rain, and it rains all day. Late last night, while still raining and very windy, Char and I heard a huge ‘thump’ from outside. One of our large elm trees was uprooted and came crashing to the ground, narrowly missing a couple other trees and completely covering the roadway.

    On the way to school today, Jack says, “I’m sorry, Dad.”

    “For what?”

    “For making it rain,” he answered.

    So… I was torn. I could tell him that his little ritual didn’t really make it rain and possibly crush him. Or I could just accept his apology.

    The choice was ultimately easy. I said, “Next time, try flushing two ice cubes.”