Tag Archive for niece

Luna de Miel

I’m honeymooning.

Not literally. Yes, we’re planning our fabulous England/Scotland honeymoon (Bath – York – Edinburgh – highlands – glasgow-london. heee!) but that’s not what I mean.

Life is sweet –even when I’m tired and work is… work and it’s too hot and/or too cold (jon stewart’s line: hits by grandma, featuring “Its suffocatingly hot” and the B side, “now I’m too cold”) and the grass isn’t mowed and we have to do laundry and grocery shop and the car has a rumble… there’s a peace and a beauty I’ve not felt in so long… maybe ever.

It’s making you a sandwich though you say you’re fine, because I know it’s what you need; it’s you telling me “I got it” and that I know you do. It’s watching you write out cards and scroll through books and spreadsheets and maps, for us; and merging those cards with my own. It’s yard-saling, the perfect rhythm of my energy for selling and yours for packing and clearing. It’s walking with weights and strolling with woofs, our steps and words echoing as we move.

It’s holding my niece, crayons in one fist, new shirt I bought her dragged along in the other, playing in the grass and breezes, hearing her hearty laugh.

It’s friends, who sail in and out, but are there, always.

It’s working out physically in the gym and emotionally at meditation and feeling change if not seeing it quite yet.

So there’s still the orange line, the pointy bags, the close talkers. And there’s still work and trying to prove myself and help others thrive and learn. And there’s undone blogs, and “nights” I fall asleep at 4 p.m., and the missed opportunity of a deal unsnagged, but still…
there is still and peace and calm and… love.

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Bucket goes to college

Someday when my niece, aka bucket, fussbucket is big enough to ask. We will tell her the story of when she, her mommy, and I went to Indiana University for a conference.

We had a blast!

While mommy was working, Read the rest of this entry »

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Home II

I hold my niece against my chest, tight. She laughs – her eyes sparkling with her laugh. She shrieks with glee rolling over my leg, my arm, my fingers on my sister’s soft bed. “Hava” says E, my niece.

“Ba” I say.

“Ma ma mama ba, hava?”

“ka la” I answer.

She giggles, throwing her head back, pleased with the answer. She pulls herself up on the footboard pointing excitedly at the window “DA! BA!!!”

“Yes! Window! Sun!” I say, wanting desperately to know what she is trying to tell me. She seems to forgive my ignorance, choosing to plunk herself back on the bed and laugh and laugh and laugh. And then, she scrunches up in a ball, butt up in the air, closing her eyes, murmuring, giggling, singing, “hava? bama?”

I scoop her up, put her in her soft onesie p.j, sing her a song, rub her tummy, while she slurps down her milk and coos. I cover her in her pink knit blanket. i tell her I love her, more than anything, in the whole wide world, kiss her cheek, and tiptoe out.

I am not home. But I am home.

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