Sunday, November 26, 2006

Home again.

We are so happy to be home again, with our cat and rituals. Tonight, at bedtime you said to Myra, "I love her, she is my sister." I guess that lets us off of the hook for a human sister then? Currently, you are fighting bedtime with dad, something you never do. I wonder what the rest of the evening holds.

You certainly enjoyed almost 5 days with Papa and Nana and cried when we drove away.

[Interjection -- I have just returned from your room, where I rocked and then tucked you in again. Now you are playing with your lips and humming. The neighbors are revving their engine outside of our house.)

Where was I? Oh, yes. Thanksgiving. You ate turkey hot off of the new barbecue and hid in the living room while the rest of us ate. The attention was great, but football was more appealing. You Love football which baffles me. You don't really watch t.v. and we aren't big sports people, but somehow you have an interest. The only thing that trips you up is the amount that the players crash into each other and fall down. You are so concerned with their well-being and so this is what I hear: "Uh, oh! He fell down! Owie! Okay, he's okay. He doesn't need a doctor."

Going home is always interesting for me. Luckily, I have a great relationship with Nana and Papa and so there is a limited amount of drama. I hope our relationship is similarly close and healthy, but I'm realistic that you'll feel that same odd sense of push and pull I experience. I also hope that, by the time you are 31, I have new drapes and have gotten rid of your long-forgotten stuffed animals. When I talk to Nana about how difficult my entrance into the world was for them, I have a renewed sense of appreciation for my family, for you, for the ease of your existence thus far; maybe there is a reason for that drawer still filled with old cloth diapers and baby bonnets.

When we went to lunch this afternoon, you ordered sausage and peaches. When the waitress, set down the plate in front of you and bustled away, you said, "I want to say thank you." I assured you she would be back and as she returned, you leaned away from the table, looked into her eyes and said, "thank you so much." There is so much to be thankful for.

2 comments:

Jeff said...

Along the way toward this impossible bed time that took well over an hour, you discovered the parable of the mustard seed from the Lotus Sutra. I changed the mustard seed into a nut and the suffering woman was a bit more engaged with her hosts. It is your new favorite Buddha story.

You weren't too keen on the Milarepa-Naropa, endless Stupa construction tale. You are definitely more Zen than Vajrayana.

Love You,
Dad

Thany said...

I really enjoy your posts (Thanks NaBloPoMo!) and thought I'd tell you that MY daughter is named Lucy and I think it is possibly one of the best names ever.