The day is so like a hundred others in past years -- ones with young families at the heart, with my eyes firmly focused on the youngest ones in our midst. But of course, the day is uniquely its own, because the past 352 days have been nothing if not unusual for us all.
You know that I am in Chicago for a weekend with my daughter and her family. (They are not yet vaccinated, but I am.) And you know that I haven't played or hugged or chased or eaten with Primrose (who is almost three) since this summer. That I haven't played or hugged or chased or eaten with her mother either. These months have been a tough slog here as we waited for the vaccinations, but really, if I would compare them to the months of others who are still waiting, or saddened by losses of any kind, or not well themselves, well, we've had a pretty calm year. Isolated, quiet and calm. So far.
But now, starting with Friday, we have reentered the orbits of the young families, though one at a time and with spacing in between. We feel safe because they are so careful! And they should feel safe too, because Ed and I are continuing to isolate for their benefit.
Sunday morning in Chicago. I let the parents sleep in a little while I play with the little girl. I help her get ready for the day and she helps me, admiring all my creams and shampoos and combs, playing her guitar for me while I shower. She picks out her own clothing...
...and then we're off to build caves and hide with snakes and loud dogs in them.
And eventually we hear stirring upstairs. Her dad is making us a breakfast of Swedish porridge. It's fantastic! Pearled barley, sunflower seeds, flax seeds, crushed wheat, crushed rye and water, soaked then slowly cooked and patted with butter, a dash of milk, maybe a dab of jam.
Fortified, we resume our play. (After her hair is properly clipped back by mom.)
I haven't mentioned the weather -- it's been spring like!! Above freezing every day so that the snow is melting. Slushy at times, puddly at other times. Good walking weather!
First sprouts! (One has to acknowledge that Chicago gets these a few weeks earlier than we do.)
And now we're home again, eating a delivered lunch from Lonesome Rose. This feels truly like a collage of memories. On previous visits, we would often end our time together with a brunch at Lonesome Rose. Their breakfast burritos or bowls are totally modern, fresh and honest. We can't go to their restaurant of course, but here we are, eating their foods nonetheless!
With bakery treats from Lost Larson to finish the brunchy lunch.
And then I have to leave. And it would be super sad indeed (such a beautiful weekend!) if it were a departure riddled with uncertainty, but I am confident that we are all moving to a better place, certainly to a place where we can resume being with the people whom we love so deeply! So, a goodbye laced with hope and a love you so so much, and a see you soon!
I drive home. Well, not entirely home. I go a little further to deposit some boxes of baked goods for my other daughter and her family. Here, the masks have to come back on for me, and a great distance has to be preserved. For a handful of days, so that I don't mix household stuff.
At home, Ed gives me a report on the farmette weekend. Yes, the chicks are alive and well. The visiting cats will sit on top of the box where they live and look down at them. We can't tell if it's out of curiosity or something more sinister, but so far, no one has done anything naughty.
There's still snow on the ground, but not a whole lot. How quickly we jumped to better, brighter, balmier weather this year! How utterly wonderful to have had this gift of an early spring.
