wild and perfect

If you are a parent of an adult child with a family of her own, you're not likely to have a weekend with just your child. For one thing, you do also want to see her family. You cherish days with all of them. Stepping into her family life is a gift. You love every minute of it. But when by chance, or through circumstance you do get just her, it's like a jolt to your heart. Suddenly, you remember.

my older girl lives just sixteen minutes by car. My younger -- two and a half hours, if the traffic is good. It is seldom good. But yesterday, she took the bus and now she is here. Yesterday, I had both girls with me here, on the porch of Sally's house. And after dinner out with the two of them, my younger girl returned home with me. She asks -- what are your routines in the evening? Movies? Music? Actually both. I start with a movie or show and then retreat into music. 

And so we do that: I pick one of the items on my Netflix list -- Derry Girls. We watch the first episode. Quite good. I'll continue with the series without her. Without her, with her. It's hard to believe that I am with her now. 

 

This morning, Millie is cautious, but not reluctant. She tries to make sense of this: an overnight visitor, unknown to her and yet, there's something about the scent...

My pup and I wake up early. As usual. 6:30 is my get up time. The pooch is nicely quiet as we go downstairs. My daughter sleeps a bit more, then comes down to join us. Millie is less and less tentative today. A kindred spirit?

Breakfast is indoors because it is a ridiculously cool morning. And it wasn't supposed to be this way. I'm in shorts and a t-shirt. Clearly under-dressed for a 50sF/10+C morning. My daughter, who has taught me to make the world's yummiest granola, asks what I eat. I admit that I gave up baking it myself. I introduce her to my current choices from Seven Sundays. And my favorite yogurt from La Fermiere. She and I share food tips often enough. We both obsess quite a lot about finding something that is healthy and utterly delicious.

I'm preparing a family brunch -- for her, for the young family living here, closer to me, for Ed. Simple stuff. Bagels, smoked salmon, bacon, cheeses, eggs, fruits, lots of fruits. And a rhubarb cake. Farmette rhubarb is exploding and I grabbed a few stalks last time I drove by that way. This morning, I mix up ingredients for one of those snacking cakes. I haven't baked in a long time and my younger girl asks me why that is. She and I share this too -- a love of baking from favorite cookbooks. So why not bake more often? Maybe because she isn't here to egg me on...

I open presents. Birthday, Mother's Day. A lovely card from her girls. Beautiful, thoughtful items! So happy to make this a day of celebrations with her.

 

Our other guests arrive. Goose too. 

 

 

 

And something remarkable happens: Millie and big Goose take up play. They've avoided each other up to now, but today, they're at it! They run like wild dogs unleashed, pushing away furniture, rolling up rugs. Millie has definitely shed a truck-load of shyness this weekend. I am so happy for both of them!

And Goose finally stops his barking mission toward Ed. It's as if a switch was flipped and everyone is at their most perfect. 

Brunch is ready.

After, I want a photo! I should include myself in it, but I'm thinking of just them today. Two daughters, one set of kids, one husband, two dogs. Ed dozes on the couch, I snap away.

The dogs have calmed down a bit, but the weather outside hasn't! Out of the blue, there is a tornado warning. With so much going on this weekend, I hadn't been paying attention to weather forecasts. We wait it out.  The basement is ready for us if the winds suddenly pick up. 

In the end, we are lucky. Nothing comes our way. A big exhale for the kids, who tend to worry more than the adults, who process probabilities quickly and listen to storm signals carefully to assess the severity of  the threats.

 

The visit ends there. My younger girl has a bus to catch. The locals have their local stuff to return to. Millie needs a nap badly!

Hold on, little one! Let's drive my first little one, the one that came before you, to the bus stop. 

We go in blinding rain, but it doesn't last. I note that this amount of moisture is exactly what the gardens and sweet corn fields need.  

She gets on the bus. Millie and I go home.

 

(Millie, looking very much like her poodle dad) 

 

 

My daughter had asked me what I'd be doing the rest of the day. Reflecting, of course. Thinking about that feeling that came back, from the days I used to visit her in college, then law school, then in her own apartment. On the trips she and I took together -- to Turkey, Morocco, Poland, Italy. 

Lest this seem a bit wistful or sad, let me assure you, it isn't. I like what's there today. I like thinking about my daughters' lives as they unfold now. And I love being part of that story. But this weekend, I was momentarily put back in that other wonderful world -- when my girl and I walked in step, briefly, together. 

with so much love...