Sitting in a quiet, mostly empty hospital cafetria. After the wife’s surgery today, the waiting room crowd and blaring flat screen tv it’s nice to be in a quiet, mostly empty place.
Mobile Uploads, Outtings, Photos, Reflection, iPhone Yesterday, I took the kids to Chick-fil-a in order to redeem free kid’s meal coupons they had received for making the honor roll at school. We parked ourselves at a booth right by the indoor play area that most of the places sport. I knew Ana and David would want to play after eating and I wanted to be able to watch them without having to actually be in the kid’s area. It can get a little Lord of the Fly-esque in there and it is not usually an experience I enjoy.
I was drawn to the family sitting in the booth in front of us where a grandmother, mom and tiny baby were eating lunch. It was the grandmother who first caught my attention. She was wearing what my grandmother would’ve called a “duster,” a kind of “house dress,” loose fitting with snaps up the front. She had snow white hair, curly like mine but the curls were brushed out, longish and pulled up in pony tail. The front of her hair was cut into bangs and kind of floated above her head like a cloud. She had fair skin and her forehead was high, also like mine with a few horizontal lines. She reminded me of the women I met during my time in Appalachia and, to me, she had a rare, raw beauty.
Outtings, Reflection I am officially the mother of an 8 year old. Ana’s birthday was yesterday, and while not the grand affair she had hoped for, I think she had a good day all in all. When I married, I got a “bonus” with my stepson, Michael, but Ana ushered me into full time motherhood. She was due on Mother’s day in 2001, but fortunately for me, came a few days early, so I had her in time for my first Mother’s day. I can still remember staring at her and crying because I just knew she was the most beautiful baby in the world.
The only time in my life I’ve ever truly wanted to commit murder was because of Ana. I took her in for her 2 week appointment at the pediatrician and they, of course, wanted to draw some blood. A routine heel stick, right? No big deal. Except that Ana wasn’t bleeding, and the nurse kept stabbing her with the lancet, Ana was screaming and I seriously wanted to kill the nurse who was hurting my baby. Since then, I’ve learned to temper my mothering instincts.
Ana has grown into a beautiful young lady. As I told someone at church, I sometimes have to remind myself that she’s only 8. You can have an almost adult conversation with Ana. She likes to read (and still likes to be read to) and thus, has a pretty good vocabulary for an 8 year old. She’s a dependable girl and I know I can count on her to lend me a hand. Lately, she’s been creeping into the kitchen to help me make dinner, unasked, of course.
What I love most about Ana, though, is her great big heart. She really cares for people, animals, whoever needs love. And she’s willing to pour out that love, pretty much unconditionally. Even her little brother, with whom she can become quite exasperated, she manages to love quite thoroughly. He threatened to run away after a heated argument with Ana one day. She came to me in tears, “Mama, I don’t want David to run away.” I hope she always holds on to that God given ability to love the unlovely. The world needs more people like her right now.
Blessings!
Ana, Motherhood, Reflection Jim and I went out for dinner last night to celebrate our 11th anniversary, nearly a month late due to a lack of cash and time. We went to the same restaurant as last year, the “Treaty of Paris,” in Annapolis, and, as fate would have it, had the very same waitress. She herself has been married for 18 years, which she said, “is an accomplishment these days.”
I guess maybe it is. But why? Have we been conditioned by the final kiss in the movies? You know what I’m talking about. The girl finally gets the guy, or vice versa, we see them kiss and then the credits roll. What we rarely get to see is the dirty laundry, mortgage payments and day to day drudgery of marriage. Have we come to expect that marriage is a continual flight of fancy and when we don’t get our misty eyed “fix”on a daily basis, we should move on to the next adventure?
Marriage, Reflection