Call of the child
This morning at around 6:45am, lying semi-awake in Nellie and Mike’s guest room, we heard a tiny noise. Fiona, awake. Even all those nights I’ve seen him called in to the hospital, I’ve rarely seen Jonathan up and out of bed so fast. We’re on grandparent duty today, and he was ready to start, even though Nellie wouldn’t be leaving for work for another hour or so.
I am enchanted by my granddaughter, but it’s almost equally enchanting to see my husband, utterly, helplessly in thrall by this little child. She is transformative for both of us, but I sense something bigger happening in Jonathan. With Fiona asleep on his chest, he is like a meditative Buddha. He doesn’t want to put her down.
Jonathan turns sixty next week. Tides of change are rolling him around at the wrack line.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 172: 140 words, TOTAL = 28,186; 31,814 remaining
2/17/2020 01:08:02 pm
Robin Clifford Wood
2/17/2020 07:36:57 pm
:) thanks, Marilyn!
Nana. Warm heart looking at my boy— he’s transfixed!
2/18/2020 01:11:30 am
I wish his dad could be here now ...
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Robin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs.