 I braved an outing with Fiona yesterday: thermos of warm water, baby-bottle with pre-measured formula powder, diapers, wipes, change of clothes, sunscreen, water bottle, hats, toys, teething crackers, baby sunglasses, Ergo-baby carrier. I should have had food for me, a blanket, a garbage bag. This stuff takes practice. We visited Two Lights State Park in Cape Elizabeth. Using Fiona’s outward-facing carrier is like holding a little octopus against my chest, arms and legs flailing. I couldn’t see her expression, but she made lovely cooing sounds. One young mom was walking the rocks with her two girls. She watched Fiona’s face take in the crashing surf, and laughed – “You should see the huge smile and wide eyes!” Foamy waves rolled in over tilted layers of striated rock like mounds of stone baklava. I dipped her toes and one pudgy hand into the water, pulled back her hat flap, and witnessed one of those bright-eyed reactions to this unfolding world of wonders. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 315: 160 words, TOTAL = 51,394; 8,606 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families. Archives
January 2021
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