“See the world for what it is, and not what people think it is.”- James D.
Emilia is typing and coloring. She punches in her name and a thought or two and then pulls the paper out and draws a picture. I tell her writing is creative, good for you, and a nice way to spend a rainy afternoon. (I type in my journal. I figure it is modeling behavior.) Writing is the same as painting or drawing, I remind her.
And playing the piano?
Yes, that is usually a very good thing to do, but we don’t want to wake up Henry. Your cousins are coming over after school.
Emilia is in kindergarten in Juneau. Her mom is working at the Haines school this week, so I am in charge, more or less, of Emilia and her little brother which is why you haven’t heard from me.
I did send out early morning birthday greetings on the family text thread to Emilia’s aunt, our oldest daughter – (we spoke later.)
Chip and I became a family 42 years ago and luckily our first born was ( and remains) so wonderful that we went ahead and filled up the house. Five children later we realized we didn’t have any more room in the car– at least once it became the law that we had to wear seatbelts, and no, we couldn’t share. Also, I wanted to run a marathon. (I did.)
The family text is the best thing about my smart phone. Maybe the only reason I have one.
Now Emilia asks, Can we bake more banana bread?
We are out of brown bananas and the yellow ones are for breakfast.
I look in the pantry.
Applesauce bread? And, since Henry is sleeping, you can make it yourself.
(The recipe is simple. You mix everything up in one bowl.)
After Henry woke up, we decided to organize the kids’ bunk and playroom on the top floor. It was once a bedroom for their aunt and later a big closet/storage room during the brief period (about a year) when our kids were out of the house and before the grandchildren arrived.
While the bread baked, we sorted Legos, books, puzzles, blocks, toy animals and people, magnets. Underneath a little pile of junk in a big old basket, I found a tiny bag, the type jewelers use, with a baby tooth in it.
Wow.
The grandchildren have lost teeth here, but their parents make sure the tooth fairy is notified. Pronto. They’d never leave one behind.
Did I forget this one in the blur of time? Or did I plan to save it and lost it?
I had been going a tad crazy with my almost- perfect grandmothering gig. I can only keep it up for so long. I really needed a walk. By myself. In the pouring rain.
But that tooth. My children. My heart.
Can I have it? Emilia asked.
No. This is Mimi’s. It’s my treasure. I hope that’s okay?
It’s fine she said, reaching for a dusty quarter under the bed. Can I have this?
Of course.
When the cousins arrived after school, I asked Teddy (6) what he learned today. He is very thoughtful.
We learned about big problems and small problems, he said.
And?
A big problem means you need to ask someone for help. A small problem means you can take care of it yourself. (Dear little man, may all your problems be small, and if you do have some big ones, I’ll help.)
And this, from our ten-year-old grandson James, that I wrote on the chalk board back in August— and had the good sense, or more likely, the lax housekeeping, not to erase. Now I share it with you—so it may last even longer than that tooth.
