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Bouncing Back

Bouncing Back

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In the saga of returns, there is the personal return, as in people flying home to their primary residence. And then there is the return of the residence itself, when it comes into its own again. 

This old house was well cared for during our absence by the girls, who came over with their families to mow the lawn, water the plants and sometimes just to hang out. But last night was when it fully arrived. 

It was just a family birthday party, but these can be pretty lively. There were the toddlers shrieking, a baby cruising, and the oldest, the birthday boy himself, savoring the special meal and gifts. Hanging over it all, the parakeets sent out their joyous squawks. 

Now, more than ever, we’re back.

(The trampoline usually plays a part in these big family gatherings. Photo: CCG.)

Freeze Frame

Freeze Frame

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Back home now, with only a few items missing, and none of them mine (or at least not that I’ve noticed so far), I think about what this week means to my family, the role it has begun to play. 

The toddlers, two going on three, may actually remember this summer’s trip, and if not, they will remember next year’s, I hope. The baby had a new place to crawl — actually a couple of new places, if you count the fair. The pre-teen was given a little more freedom. And the adults had a chance to reconnect and have fun. 

The months and years pass, and while this week doesn’t completely slow them down, it does freeze-frame them. And that will have to do.  

(What a difference a year makes. Photos by CCG.) 

Baby Crawl

Baby Crawl

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On your mark, get set, go! And the babies were off and running at the Garrett County Fair Baby Crawl. 

Our entry in the race was a little more interested in socializing with her competitors than she was in winning the race. 

It took the babies in this heat quite a while to reach their moms. One of them was fast asleep and did a face plant on the green mat. As his mother said, the baby crawl was scheduled during morning nap time.  What can you expect?

In and Out

In and Out

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I write to the sound of little voices and big thuds. The house we’ve rented is one of those shaggy old cottages that spring up around lakes and beaches, perfect for several generations of a family gathering for a week or two in the summer. 

Right now the toddlers and their parents are upstairs, and I’ve hit the first floor in a rare moment of calm.

The temptation is to be with my kids and their kids every moment, but sometimes, like now, I find myself alone while chaos reigns all around. And in that moment (and sometimes it literally is just a moment), I savor the togetherness … without being a part of it. 

Quality of the Air

Quality of the Air

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Last week’s heat exploded in a series of storms that set fires, blew circuits and knocked at least one radio station off the air for a few minutes. I was in the car when Rachmaninoff’s Second Symphony suddenly went to static. 

But the result is a welcome bout of cool air, especially up here in Maryland where the family has gathered for a week of hiking, kayaking and hanging out.

For me, it’s also time to ponder the quality of air that makes this corner of the state a special place. It’s not just cooler and clearer but, at 2,000 feet of elevation, it’s closer to heaven, too.  

It’s Barbie!

It’s Barbie!

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My first one had a bouffant hairdo, not the iconic ponytail. But I loved her just the same. 

I’m talking about Barbie, of course, the doll being celebrated in a new feature film directed by Greta Gerwig.

In honor of the film and of the Barbiemania sweeping the country, I picked up this beauty in the basement. She is, like all my daughters’ dolls, much loved. 

Her hair is matted and her dress is stained, but she is the most intact and presentable Barbie I could find. Many of her buddies are missing arms or have short haphazard haircuts. (The fact that dolls’ hair doesn’t grow back was a fact my kids couldn’t seem to grasp.)

Yes, we have heat domes, indictments and droughts this summer. But we also have … the Barbie movie. 

Dads and Babies

Dads and Babies

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On this day of dads, I’m thinking about babies, too, especially one particular baby who is napping upstairs. In fact, it’s only because she’s napping that I’m able to write this post.

On this day of all days, fathers and babies naturally belong together.  Dads (and grandpas) have a way of jostling, tossing, blowing on tummies and just generally making an infant’s day. 

I’m sure this infant would agree. 

Happy 100th!

Happy 100th!

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Today would have been Dad’s 100th birthday. He missed it by a little over nine years. I like to think he would have reveled in the day.

A milestone that once seemed impossible to reach is no longer such a feat. I’ve known a couple of centenarians and a slew of nonagenarians. Dad was briefly one of them, almost 91 when he passed away. 

The last time Dad was at our house, he loosened his tie, grabbed his cane and took to the dance floor. It’s a good way to remember him on his birthday … or any day.

Time for Talking

Time for Talking

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Thinking about time this morning, about the way it gets parceled out, about its being, in the end, the only true currency. Since time passes more quickly as we age, that should mean our wallets are slimmer, too. 

Yet mine can feel so full! Not everyday, of course, but on days I spend with dear family and friends. Maybe it’s because a good talk puts me in the eternal present, when time-passed and time-yet-to-come slip away and all that matters is the time-that-is, the words and the moment. 

Which means that having as many good talks as possible is a worthy goal. Making (yes!) time for them, enjoying them, and afterwords, savoring their insights and their joy.

For the Women

For the Women

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On this, the last day of Women’s History Month, I’m thinking about the women in my life: my daughters, sister and mother, my sisters-in-law, grandmothers, aunts and cousins.

I’m thinking about my women friends, so many dear ones, some I’ve known since high school and college, others of more recent vintage. 

I’m thinking about the women I’ve met on travels around the world, women tackling enormous problems with grace and good cheer.

How strong these women are, kind and capable and funny. Yesterday, still mulling over the tragedy in Nashville and lawmakers’ tepid response to it, I thought, if women were in charge, we would do something about it. 

First, we would not be in the same dire predicaments if women were running the world. But even if we were, we would be facing them differently, more collaboratively and courageously. 

I could be wrong, of course. Maybe women would fall into the same traps that men do. But I don’t think so. And I hope one day we have a chance to find out.

(I met these women from Ntcheu, Malawi, in December 2018.)