Saturday, April 24, 2010

Already Her Own Girl

Meet my 6-week old granddaughter Sophie. She is calm and deliberative, but she startles and smiles all googly-eyed when silly people (me) make funny noises in her face.

If I hadn't already believed in love at first sight, I would now.

"April is the cruellest month, breeding...

...Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain."

--T. S. Eliot, "The Waste Land"

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

The Flavor of Hope

Two years ago in our somewhat barren back yard, we planted a slip of a peach tree. When it budded the very next day, we took that as a favorable omen. Sure enough, this March it bloomed glorious pink and set its first fruit--funny, pea-sized fuzzballs!

I grew up in the Black Belt, not far from Chilton County, the peach capitol of Alabama. The peach orchards there perch atop the last gasp of the Appalachian Plateau, a thin spur, cloud high, on a whisper breeze that overlooks the stifling plain of my childhood.

Eating peaches was like eating sweet April sunshine. The only thing I liked better in July was a rope swing over a creek.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

How Do You Like Your Hard Drive?

Last week I fried my hard drive and lost all my writing files. Probably no great loss. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself. Yes, I know that all those zeroes and ones are supposedly recoverable at some level of skill, trouble, and expense. But probably not at my level.

I'm accepting the loss without howling and throwing things. So far, anyway.

Plus, I happen to like this blank-slate feeling. I'll just make a new and better start.

But here's some friendly advice: if a blank slate won't do for you, go ahead and back up your hard drive. Like...right now!

Friday, April 2, 2010

A Little Child Shall Lead Them

From his car seat, my grandson sees me and yells, “Hi, Mimi!”

He's a month shy of three years old. When he was born--slightly early, slightly underweight--I was there with his mother and dad. Now he's big for his age. Big feet, big understanding, big heart. He hides the eggs in the back yard. Then he insists on finding them too. We indulge him and help him remember where he put the last two.

Later, as his mother and granddad talk, I stoop and whisper, “Will you give me a hug?” He backs up to me. I'd be satisfied with this, but then he changes his mind, turns around and wraps me up in a serious embrace. I nuzzle him and kiss his neck, his cheek, before he pulls away. And again he changes his mind and comes back, puckered, to kiss me on the lips.

I drown in gratitude for his innocent affection. Unexpected. Undeserved. A foretaste of the love divine.