Monday, July 22, 2013

And the relatives came....
Our young patriots 
from the Potato State!  
Photographed July 7, 2013.

By Cindy Bailey

   The night you finally got here, after your dependable Uncle Bob picked you up at the airport, I was so glad to see your face, and touch you and hug your little skinny bones. And it was like you never left a year and a half ago.
   You and Livi loved my oatmeal cookies, or maybe it was just the baby M & Ms I put in them. And you couldn’t wait to show me your flips and cartwheels, and I smiled but couldn’t help feeling a little afraid for you. 
   And everybody rolled their eyes when we squeezed into Pappy’s old chair and I taught you the Dot Game and you beat me, but only by two. And we drew kidney bean art and no one understood it but us. I sometimes wonder what your dad (my little brother) tells you about his big sister (me). Wait. Don’t tell me. Anyhow I love that you used the kidney bean to make shades for a girl with a long, high pony tail.
   And later in the week on our way back from Chuck E. Cheese, I heard Livi say to herself, “I had so much fun.” And I did, too.
   By Wednesday, Aunt Cindy’s Fun Meter was a little droopy, but then the contingency forces arrived from Brooklyn!  And your grown-up cuz Julie took you on the roller coaster rides, earning the honor of being the fun-est relative in Pennsylvania.  
   It was about this time that I think you were seeing the real me and it disarmed us both that the real me is not as exciting as the boxes of surprises Gramma and I send to Idaho in the mail.
   But I saw glimpses of the real you, too, and I think it occurred to us both that maybe we weren’t who we thought the other one was (or something like that), because people can’t be put in a box. So we started to drive each other a little crazy. 
   You missed your dog. And Ned my cat certainly missed his solitude. Me and Grammie’s houses had become hazardous to anyone who tried to walk through them. And I could tell you when were thinking about stuff like your tumbling class and your  polka-dotted in your bedroom.
   But by the time the birthday picnic arrived, we had all gotten our sea legs back from riding the waves of emotions swirling around us, and then Annie called us from Poland on the FaceTime thing because she knew we’d all be together. She was at a playground with some of her students; I know she was wishing that two of those kids were you and Liv. 
   And I’m pretty sure you were thinking you might want to be like Julie and Annie one day. And you will.
   You look so much like your mom, but I’m picking out some stuff from the Pennsylvania side of the family, too – your interests in books and reading and music, and writing stuff down.
   I’m glad you have a little sister/shadow who watches all you do with those wide blue eyes. And I think that will help you, always wanting to do things to make her proud because you know she looks up to you. I love it when you call her “bubba” - something she will one day be mortified over!
   By Saturday, Julie introduced us to the wonders of Snapchat, and we were sending our ugly mugs all over the place, and blackening the teeth of people in your teen magazine, and you and I thought we were so funny.
   And boy, did we eat. We not only ate, we snarfed whatever was nearby – all sorts of fun, bad delectables that people eat at reunions and parties – pies and creamy desserts and greasy meats and white bread, and most of us had stomach aches off and on and by Sunday we were sluggish and glassy-eyed. But it wasn’t just the food; it was that you were all leaving us old folk and taking the excitement with you on that plane back to the Potato State.
   And the two of you put up with the patriotic outfits, swimsuits, and T-shirts I forced on you at the last minute for photos. But you really were in your element, quite comfortable with your graceful, photogenic self, but by the time the photo shooting was over, Livi was ready to shoot me.
   And thinking on it all now is bittersweet, but this is the only time I’ll  indulge myself in the bitter part. Mostly, I’ll try not to think that when you return you will be in the double digits, and I’ll be missing most of what’s important in your life. 
    But we had a good time, didn’t we? And it really perked Grammie up to see you all. And not to worry, dependable Uncle Bob is here to pick up the pieces of what’s left of Aunt Cindy now that this house seems like a cold, dark cave since you and Livi are gone. He always puts the toys away in the basement so I won’t cry when I come home. 
  Guess I’d better put all these reflections in their rightful place, too, and press on to the day when I’ll be seeing you again. Because there are worse things in life than temporary good-byes. But that seems really hollow now that I see it written down.

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