Your old place is my new place and that’s exactly the scenario I experienced. My son enjoys exploring and experiencing new places. For that reason among others he relocated from the mountain west to very close to the Nation’s capital city. Long overdue for a visit, I was anxious to go and see him and his family. As I write this, I’m experiencing a graphic deja-vu. It’s amazing how writing this blog feels like an already experienced thing, a memory.
Carson fetched me at the Dulles International Airport as I was watching a swirling flock of birds go through a group dance in the air as if they were swept into the currents. They were like fish in the sea. The air was humid and very warm and I felt I could as easily be in Rhodesia on the African continent.
When we reached the house, I finally met the new grand daughter Clara. Her sudden appearance on the scene made her almost seem adopted or store bought because for fun her parents decided not to tell anyone about her until a few days after her birth. And that was after not letting anyone know she was in the works. The women folk in the family reacted differently than the fellows. They didn’t like it. It’s still the same girl though and she observed me with an eye of wary scrutiny. Within a day I was vetted. Soon after that I was almost fully trusted. Trusted enough to carry her around the house in arms and sit her on my lap. She watched everyone else interact with me and kept both eyes on me in the car rides. She alternated between keeping me in sight and trying to figure out what her sister was up to.
When her sister Esther wasn’t playing “Boo!” with Clara from behind the seat back, Esther and I were coloring. One of the thousand things I like alot about Esther is her generosity. She let me color in her Strawberry Shortcake book, which she loves. Meanwhile she used a book she’s not so happy with. She did the same thing with her treasure. She got possession of a bag of potato chips and rather than woof it all down, she passed it around so everyone in the car could have some.
The first day I was there didn’t start with a car ride though. It was a trip to the exercise room of the condominium. While her dad was on one of the tread mills Esther built something in Lego blocks. When it was time to go home, the fledgling engineer was distressed about having to destroy her work. So I took a photo of her with it before it’s destruction to put the pieces away.
This event repeated many times before I was to return home. She is quite the builder. At home it was more often with magnetic bits.
