Dear friends, as I write it is Sunday morning, barely daylight. Outside, skies stretch wide like a gray umbrella. Yesterday brought sunshine. Today, we may get wet again, as we have for the past few weeks. Despite the uncertainty of the day, the trees have budded out and the birds are in full motion, darting in and out of the red-tip bushes, preparing nests for the coming weeks.
Meanwhile, coffee has been made and I sit on the sofa watching my new granddaughter sleep, still in awe that she is here. I revel in her every breath, delight in her every expression. Did I mention the comforter she's laying on belonged to her mother? I've kept it 28 years for this very moment in time.
My niece and her family came last week. Sugar plum was impressed and took great pride in holding her new cousin. As we passed around the latest addition of the family, my niece recalled the early days of her daughter’s life. She said, “The first few weeks, it’s like time stands still.”
Yes, that is precisely how it feels, like a still-life painting. We wake and sleep. We eat as necessary. Everything else is barely there.
And in between our minimalistic existence, we watch this baby girl, fresh from heaven.
We stare at her, smell of her, study her chin and lips, and kiss her delicious cheeks.
On occasion, she opens her tiny eyes, not fully, but enough to peek out and maybe, just maybe, know we’re here, loving her and caring for her every need, our hearts overflowing, filling up with love and emptying out again and again.
Before I sign off, a funny thing happened this morning. After my daughter finished the night shift, it was just me and cupcake. I was playing the little music bear that one of Anna’s coworkers gave her. It plays the most gentle tones and plays religious songs, including “Jesus Loves Me,” and “Onward Christian Soldiers” (that kinda made me chuckle when I thought about it). I left cupcake asleep on the couch and went to fix me an egg. When I returned, I saw this:
Somebody was getting her Sunday praise on. She’s never held her arm in this position, and it stayed up until the music stopped ten minutes later. I laughed and laughed and laughed some more. My darling cupcake, already making her memaw giggle.
Until next time, sweet friends, thanks for stopping by and for your sweet comments about my new granddaughter. I'm proud to be part of the Grand Club.