The most important thing to remember about this day is that I reenter the world of my Chicago grandchild, Primrose.
Of course, it's the vaccination that makes this possible, though there isn't much guidance as to how best to reunite safely with your kids and grandkids after getting your shots and so the cautious approach is probably a smart idea. Meaning, you don't just jump into everyone's space at once. You assess their vulnerabilities, you count the days, you discuss with your kids who goes first and what amount of time should be wedged between the two visits and then you proceed.
I haven't had an indoor unmasked meetup with Primrose since July. The family is endlessly, tirelessly isolating, but the little girl goes to school and so our only get togethers have been in a park, with masks. Today all this changes.
But first, there are the morning farmette routines, the animals, the walk to the barn -- all in beautiful sunshine.
And of course, I spend time with the new farmhouse residents. You're always a tad anxious when you come down to their boxy home after the first night: did the temp stay at the requisite 95F (35C)? Did they stay warm enough? Did they survive??
It did. Plenty warm. They survived.
Breakfast, near them in the sun room.
We do have a double agenda: getting them used to us of course (the last three chicks we raised were plenty used to us in the farmhouse, but once released to the flock, it became all about their own pecking order and we were pretty much ignored), but also getting the cats used to the chicks.
Our cats are hunters. We're never going to be able to put up cute videos where they cuddle with baby chicks. They hunt mice, chipmunks and every once in a while, they'll go after a bird. Or a bug. It doesn't happen often, but we've certainly seen them bring in small feathered friends. The chicks will surely tempt them. At the very least they'll be chased and tortured by the cats, especially the Unfriendlies, who think themselves to be in charge of patrolling the farmette's boundaries. And so until they are nice and hefty and ready to join the flock, we have to keep them safe.
Dance is the most frequent farmhouse visitor and she is definitely intrigued by the big box. We've let her peek inside, hoping that some form of acceptance will occur, but we're not betting on it. The box is covered from all sides. No cat can get in.
But shortly after noon, I leave all this behind, pack up the rusty but still trusty silver Mazda and head for Chicago.
It is so strange to be coming up the steps to their unit once again! So strange not to use precautions! So wonderful, too.
(picking Primrose up at school)
(Home, the young family's home. Playing with Primrose once again...)
(And yes, it was grand to see my daughter and son-in-law once again. To talk late into the evening, to visit!)
It's like riding a bike: face to face visits -- something that we haven't done for soooooo long! -- are as easy to return to, as if you never had to leave them behind. And yes, you want to forget that you did have to leave them behind. Thanksgiving, Christmas, all that happened only via video calls. And they were great and they brought us closer together, but you never want to do them again. At least not as any new normal. May the new normal -- face to face, hug to hug. -- may that happen soon for all of us. This is my most fervent wish for you, for me.
With love.
