The wind howled and a cold, almost snow-like rain pounded at everything in sight. In the darkness of a cloudy predawn, I make my way downstairs, greet and feed the little birds, and sit down to a quiet, solitary breakfast. Ed should sleep. I'm the insane one, wanting to get to Chicago as soon as possible.
I have a few parcels, including the "pajak" (that Polish piece of folk art that Karolina wrapped for me in cardboard that threatens to get soggy very quickly) and as I run from the parked car to the bus stop, I have to laugh at how ridiculous I must look -- box flying in the wind, bag dangling with Primrose treats, backpack stuffed with camera, computer, reading material -- all getting awfully wet in the miserable downpour.
How many trips just like this one will I make in the course of my life?
I ride the bus, mentally packing my backpack for future trips: must remember to take ear phones (against passengers who just cannot put down their phones) and always pack an extra sweater, and come to think of it, an umbrella should be in there as well. One that can withstand howling winds.
In Chicago, I pause at the cafe just by the "L" train stop near the young family's home and as I await further instructions, I look around me, now more like a future habitue rather than a visitor just passing through. I like this place.
And now it's time for me to brave that wind, to whisper a thanks to the weather gods who let the rain clouds move on, to walk as quickly as I can, pausing only to purchase some spring color for the young family's home...
... and finally -- to knock on the door and greet Primrose -- she's three days old today!
(The little one has just settled in for a nice snooze...)
She is a calm child and she gives us a solid two hours of holding, hugging, staring, admiring...
(Her parents)
My turn, at last! I wore my softest shirt, so that she could snuggle in it...
Oh, and the pajak made it! Squashed in the Paris metro turnstiles, jostled in overhead bins and under the seat in front on three planes, pummeled by the winds and rains -- it seems none the worse for wear! Hardy Polish peasant stock!
And now comes the other young family, with Snowdrop in tow (sporting a dazzling Easter ribbon, all pink, of course!). It is the girl's first encounter with Primrose. She has talked a lot about this being her very own cousin. She is delighted with the real deal!
She watches...
She then shyly touches...
And finally, after a thorough hand washing, she holds. And Primrose gives a hint of a smile...
(Sisters!)
My two young families! With another babe on the way...
And one more of my new little granddaughter...
It's the first full day home for Primrose. We leave her to her parents and her new surroundings. No bus for me -- I get to ride back with Snowdrop and her parents.
As we listen to a Snowdrop favorite Peg and Cat song about infinite amounts of love, I think -- yes, that's right. Nothing's taken away, even as another person grabbed my heart this week.
I can't stop smiling at the richness of it all.
I have a few parcels, including the "pajak" (that Polish piece of folk art that Karolina wrapped for me in cardboard that threatens to get soggy very quickly) and as I run from the parked car to the bus stop, I have to laugh at how ridiculous I must look -- box flying in the wind, bag dangling with Primrose treats, backpack stuffed with camera, computer, reading material -- all getting awfully wet in the miserable downpour.
How many trips just like this one will I make in the course of my life?
I ride the bus, mentally packing my backpack for future trips: must remember to take ear phones (against passengers who just cannot put down their phones) and always pack an extra sweater, and come to think of it, an umbrella should be in there as well. One that can withstand howling winds.
In Chicago, I pause at the cafe just by the "L" train stop near the young family's home and as I await further instructions, I look around me, now more like a future habitue rather than a visitor just passing through. I like this place.
And now it's time for me to brave that wind, to whisper a thanks to the weather gods who let the rain clouds move on, to walk as quickly as I can, pausing only to purchase some spring color for the young family's home...
... and finally -- to knock on the door and greet Primrose -- she's three days old today!
(The little one has just settled in for a nice snooze...)
She is a calm child and she gives us a solid two hours of holding, hugging, staring, admiring...
(Her parents)
My turn, at last! I wore my softest shirt, so that she could snuggle in it...
Oh, and the pajak made it! Squashed in the Paris metro turnstiles, jostled in overhead bins and under the seat in front on three planes, pummeled by the winds and rains -- it seems none the worse for wear! Hardy Polish peasant stock!
And now comes the other young family, with Snowdrop in tow (sporting a dazzling Easter ribbon, all pink, of course!). It is the girl's first encounter with Primrose. She has talked a lot about this being her very own cousin. She is delighted with the real deal!
She watches...
She then shyly touches...
And finally, after a thorough hand washing, she holds. And Primrose gives a hint of a smile...
(Sisters!)
My two young families! With another babe on the way...
And one more of my new little granddaughter...
It's the first full day home for Primrose. We leave her to her parents and her new surroundings. No bus for me -- I get to ride back with Snowdrop and her parents.
As we listen to a Snowdrop favorite Peg and Cat song about infinite amounts of love, I think -- yes, that's right. Nothing's taken away, even as another person grabbed my heart this week.
I can't stop smiling at the richness of it all.
