Chicago week

I'm scaling down my walking ambitions for the day. It's cooler, I'm lazier, less curious about my neighborhood (because I gave it a good once over yesterday), and I'm conserving time. I so often start in on a new place (or new as compared to my usual orbit) with excessive energy, packing it all in, taking the photos, doing all that I feel needs to be done to enrich a time away from home, and then I step back and say (to myself) -- hey, slow down. The world wont go away. Don't push yourself.

So today I drove to my daughter's home. (9 minutes, as opposed to the 29 minute walk.)

I came in to an excited household. Or, at least an excited little girl.

Grandma, did you know it's Norwegian Constitution Day? -- this from Primrose as I come up the stairs.

She spins around and shows me the Norwegian colors in her hair.

Her sister looks on, with her usual wide eyed gaze of wonder: "No one told me about Norwegian Constitution Day! Will I get ribbons too??"

Of course, all this only affirms Ed's standard line that every day is a holiday. It's not that Norwegian Constitution Day has any great meaning for us, but it's a reason to wear ribbons and make the day sparkle. 

She goes off to school, the parents plunge into their work.

The house grows quiet. Juniper and I play. 

As I take the occasional picture of the little one, I have to ask myself if I am being fair to her. A story about a child is as much (perhaps more?) about the story teller as it is about that child. Writing on Ocean for so many years, and then publishing Like a Swallow (see sidebar!) makes me acutely aware of this. In the case of Juniper -- I am enchanted by her gaze, so that most of the pictures I take (and nearly all that I post here) have this classic Juniper look of utter amazement. Like this one from this morning:

But don't I owe it to her to be more balanced? After all, so often, she is like this:

And that's equally precious of course, except I do so associate her with the wonder-filled eyes. Yes, these:

It's just one of the many reminders that Ocean isn't supposed to be about the kids or grandkids. It's about being a grandparent (and a parent and a partner and a farmette person and a writer and a traveler and whatever else creeps into my life and sucks me in whole).

Today again I take this youngest grandchild out for a walk...

Though as I said -- it's a less physically ambitious day. We go to Olivia's, the sweet little grocery store in this neighborhood -- a place where I routinely pick up flowers for my daughter's home. No cafe plans, no distant bakery trips.

But speaking of flowers, Juniper and I do take many pauses to smell the lilacs. They are blooming heavily and everywhere!

I have my fill of that bewitching fragrance. And today, Juniper gets her fill as well.

At home, she shows off her skills. She rolls, she reads (or at least turns pages), and when he's done with his work day, she snuggles into her dad's face. She does not mind beards.

In the evening, I stay with the young family for dinner. I don't want to mess with their schedules too much, but Primrose has pointed out the unfairness of my spending a whole day with her sister and not a fraction of that time with her. So tonight, I try to balance it out just a tiny bit.

And much later, I return to my Lincoln Park digs and think about how lucky all my grandkids are and by extension, how lucky I am too. That's the thing about luck -- it tends to trickle down by association. It trickled down plenty for me. I am so very grateful.

With love...