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Showing posts from February, 2011

Mail

John put pencil to PSAT this fall. He blacked in bubbles concerning interests and majors. He scrawled address and now the owls come. They drop beakfuls of college literature into our mailbox. John outgrew watching for the owls a long while back. He was happy to leave that to Claire and Faith and Charlie. Most of our mail is his these days so again he watches. Charlie and Faith and Claire are not happy with his meddling.



John has a routine. Count the envelopes. Slit them open. Separate response cards from letters. Read the letters. Return letters to envelopes. Drop by websites of interest for a visit. Share gleanings from the daily dozen with me. "Mom, Bill Watterson went to Kenyon... Mom, I kind of like the University of Rochester. I can design my own major. There are no specified requirements." For a boy who thinks, lives outside the box, this has appeal. "Maybe I'll major in English or Mathematics. Maybe both."

We're in the midst of a sh…

The Doll Baby

In September I went to a local fair with a fellow mama, I with my five mediums and she with her four littles. She coughed a bit through the art exhibits and the animal displays, and in November a surgeon slipped scalpel between ribs into lung. The cough is cancer. Body and life sliced open; sewn back together, different than they were. Grace pours down and friends, family pour in to pick up the pieces...laundry pieces, meal pieces, soul pieces. My family gets a piece too.

A red-headed toddler comes to us early on Monday mornings while his daddy works and his mama mends. We get to keep him until dinner time and we savor the moments. His father hands him to me when I am in my pajamas and some days I hand him back still in my pajamas and I remember, This is how it is with little ones.


The Doll Baby comes, takes charge, teaches my children lessons they've forgotten. Twelve years we had babies in the house and they who just were babies, who have spent a lifetime surrounded by bab…