Little Granddaughter crawls under our covers.
'I love Nam-ma,' she says.
Her christening dress lies on the floor, a sweet froth
of lace.
At the font she scooped up water and washed her
mother. At the party she danced past her bedtime. (She also licked and returned
several sausage rolls, but I've little sympathy, if you must eat all that
pastry and processed meat.) At Granma's house she slept for twelve hours.
After she is returned to her mother, and settled on a
sofa looking at cards and presents: 'Oh, s'nice,' she waves goodbye without
looking.
Good Granmas understand: they are stoic by nature, and
loving.
'Thank you Mum,' Girl says. She will make a fine
Granma one day.
There is this, and our next Grandbaby due in 8 days,
and our next wedding in 5 days, and I need to get shoes, and something to make
my hair so pretty. And then there is my beautiful friend, and my fatherless
godson, that bereavement, how can that not be on my mind? But what we must
focus on, always, is life.
This afternoon it rained so we went to the beach and
our clothes were soaked.
When the rain fell on my skin, it felt so raw. It felt
so raw I could have been skinless, open to the sting and the wonder; each drop
in the ocean falls with such aching precision.
Then I drove us home with no trousers on.
Real life is all about such moments.
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