to Chicago

It's time that I got to know my youngest granddaughter. Primrose, who lives with her parents in Chicago, is now nearly four weeks old -- a good age to have me show up and disrupt any patterns that my younger daughter may have established for herself and her baby! I can only hope that the disruptions will be of the helpful kind.

I am heading out to the windy city on a very early morning bus. So early, that my predeparture mini-breakfast is taken alone. I haven't the heart to wake Ed.





It's a rushed little meal -- which is why I can take it outside. Were it more leisurely, I'd have to admit that it's too chilly to eat it on the porch.

And now I am in Chicago.





When I had offered to come down for the week, I had said that I would not stay with the young family. The neighborhood hotel is not expensive and my stay there will give the parents time to be with their newest member alone when the dad comes home from work. In my mind, knowing when not to be there is as important as knowing when to be there for them. I'd like to believe that they're thinking "can't wait for her to come back" rather than "can't wait until she leaves" thoughts.

It's a beautiful (if cool-ish) spring day in Chicago and I check into the Robey Hotel...





... with a great deal of joyous anticipation. I leave my bag and fly to my daughter's home!

Oh, Primrose, how you have grown and prospered!






The littlest one is no longer a newborn, but instead, a babe with curious eyes and a winsome grin. And a real snuggler!






Has it been three years since I spent the day with a girl this young?






I used to think newborns were a challenge -- how do you communicate with someone so young that anything and everything is up for grabs still? But Primrose is developing a voice: a range of gurgles and cries, of memorable actions and reactions. How can you not be thrilled with it all?!





I tear myself away when the little one's dad comes home. My resolve is strong: give them some time alone.

Across the street from my hotel, there is a pub of sorts. It's a great place for a good quick meal. I eat a slab of trout, thinking that it's probably from Wisconsin.





And now evening is setting in rapidly. I should settle into my room with the grand view of the city...





I should read, or perhaps write, but in fact, all I can do is stare at the photos of my grandchildren. I hope they're all well tonight. I hope they're floating into sleepy sweet dreams...