Dare to Care

It’s been a busy week. We have a new granddaughter, almost a week old now. Her name is Phoebe, and she is so precious. I am smitten.

My hubby and I have been busy helping care for children, cooking and baking, running errands, and doing anything else to help the busy, growing family. However, today Keith and I took some time alone to go for a walk at Carkeek Park, a 220-acre park carved out in urban Seattle. The park is so green and peaceful.

Phoebe’s brother had jaundice when he was born, but she didn’t, so her color really jumped out at me. She was so red. Today when Keith wanted to stop at the Ace Hardware, I went to the paint chip section and looked for the perfect color to show the baby’s color. However, I could not even imagine how to choose a skin color without her there to match. Instead, I was taken with all the varieties of pink available. Look at the picture below of 15 different pink sets of paint chips. Who knew? I sat in the coffee shop and wrote some lune poems about my little grandbaby, using only words from these paint chips. Learn more about the lune poem, an American haiku, here at Ethical ELA with Leilya Pitre.

sweet naivete
baby dreams
gentle blushing bloom

bunny nose pink
taste of berry cherub blossom
sunrise’s rosy glow

On the great green stage,
flourishing fairies twirl in
their fine purple skirts

Two-year-old collects
trophies. Calmly holds wishes
in his tender grasp.

Cherish–vote to keep
our republic. November:
it is up to us.

And I’ll end with my confusion about why the polls are close…

It’s Tuesday again. I’ve been in Seattle for one week, and what a joy it has been waiting for a baby to come. There were a couple of false starts, but the baby is on her own timeline; she’ll come when she’s ready, of course.

Monday was my birthday, so my daughter and son-in-law spoiled me. Maria took me shopping for new journals and pens, always favorite things I love to get. She made angel food cake with strawberries and whipped cream, my favorite birthday cake, and enchiladas for dinner.

I’m having lots of fun playing with my two-year-old grandson while we wait.

Thoughts as We Wait

My “baby girl” is 39 weeks along,
longing for her baby girl to come on out,
so we can meet her and she can breathe
again. They don’t know yet what her name is.
Will she be Olive, all love, a strong tree,
or Phoebe, so dreamy–“radiant shining one”
or maybe Frances, to enhance this family?

My daughter created the very eggs
for this baby while
she rode in my womb.
Now her daughter
is doing the same with the
eggs for her future babies.
What a beautiful gift of God,
nesting dolls of humanity.

This past weekend we visited Keith’s brother, our niece, and her daughters. The youngest daughter was in the dance corps of a community theater production of Beauty and the Beast. It was a lovely production, much like the Disney version. It seemed like a magical reboot of the cartoon movie we watched when my kids were young. I must say, I have less fairy tale compassion and empathy in light of all the beasts that have been abusive throughout history, and many more in the past 33 years since the movie came out. I was happy he finally learned his lesson, though.

Yesterday Keith and I were running errands and we stopped at a little Mexican food restaurant in a strip mall for lunch. There was a “special” sign on a whiteboard. I didn’t snap a picture, but I wish I would have now. It said, “Majorra Special, beans, rice, tortillas, 24-ounce fountain drink.” I saw, “Special: beans, rice, tortillas, 24-ounce fountain drink.” I said, “I’ll take the special.” I often order just a side of rice and beans when I go out for Mexican food, so I thought this was made especially for me. He answered with surprise, “You want the whole fried fish?” I said, “Oh, I guess I don’t need fried fish with that.” Then I looked again, and saw Majorra Special. “Oh,” I said, “you were right to guess that I didn’t know what majorra was.” This morning I looked it up, and saw that it may have been talapia or majorra fish deep fried. I was fascinated to read about it here, and I wished I would have had the gumption to say, “Sí, yo quiero majorra,” when he asked. I think it would have been interesting to try it. I’m guessing that special would have made some good tacos. Have you had majorra?

Now, Keith has dropped me off at the Palm Springs Airport, where we share terminal space with the birds who come in to cool off. I’ll be boarding in twenty minutes to fly to Seattle. I’m feel some relief and satisfaction that I get to be up there before my daughter goes into labor with my first granddaughter. Grammy is coming to help her out during the last two weeks and watch big brother when it’s time to go to the hospital.