Woolly Mutts

365 days of joy

19 October 2010

 

My Dearest Cambria,

   Happy, happy birthday!  One year ago today you came into this world surrounded by people who loved you.  We had yet to see your beautiful face or hear your voice, but we all loved you.  Your Mommy and Daddy, Grace and me.  How lucky we were to be there to welcome you. After you were born, as the nurse was cleaning you up, I talked to you and told you all the fun things we were going to do together; sing and read and color.  We have a lot to look forward to!

   Today I write the first letter to you.  On each birthday I will write another so that someday you will have a collection of letters to you, from me.  I hope that they will serve to connect us during this life, and after I am gone.  It is important to me that you know that my love for you will never, ever end.  No matter what.

  Did you know that your name is also the name of a city in California?  It is beautiful, magical place and I hope that you will be able to go there one day.  It sits on the central coast with the Pacific Ocean crashing on its rocky shores and pine covered mountains at its back.  Stones called Moonstones wash up on the beach and after they are polished they have a blue light inside.  A tiny piece of the water it came from still shining from within.  I will make sure you have one.  I think the Moonstone ought to be your special stone.  Blue like your eyes.

  Cambria, California is where I fell in love with your Papa Tom.  I think you already know how special he is.  He has never had any little children in his life so you are his first!  He is smart and kind and will be there for you always.  From Papa Tom you will learn what it is to be patient and faithful and true.  If he says it, you can believe it.  That is a rare thing in this world.  He is a gift to all of us.

  During this past year I have watched you grow and learn and begin to become a very unique and joyful little person.  Everything you do delights me.  The way you tuck your bottom lip in when you are thinking; how you use that little pointer finger to touch and discover; your funny little baby sense of humor.  Such joy.  Thank you for that.

  So, as you move from year one toward the excitement of year two I wish you a safe and gentle journey.  May your lessons be learned easily and may you always face life with a sense of wonder.  Walk in peace, little Cambria, always walk in peace.  Nameste (your spirit and my spirit are one).

 

Love always,

Gram

Ode to the Nap

In the years following retirement my father would, like clockwork, rise from the lunch table at 12:30  and walk to his bedroom.  He would take off his glasses and lay them on the bedside table, remove his pillow from its cover, and stretch out on the bed.  He would pull the knitted afghan up over his legs, cross his hands over his rotund middle and go to sleep.  For exactly one hour his soft snores could be heard through the house.  At 1:30 he would get up and get on with his day.  He performed this little ritual every day, unless an inconvenient appointment of some nature interrupted, until his death.  My father was not a particularly jolly individual even at the best of times, but after that little hour of napping his mood was improved.  I think there might be some sort of magic that happens during a nap.

I was the sort of mother that felt strongly about the nap.  I think most kids (and Moms) need that little time to regenerate from the mornings activities. Karl napped each afternoon until first grade.  Like my father, he would lay down, fall asleep, and wake up refreshed and happy.  Kysa gave up napping at 18 months.  She would, however, agree to "quiet time" where she would play quietly, and like  her brother, immerge with a smile.  If for some reason naptime was disregarded, by 3:00 pm cranky anarchy reigned.    I would move mountains to make nap-time happen.

In these after 50 years of my life I have renewed my relationship with the nap and re-discovered that little bit of magic that happens.   My nap ritual involves and quiet, cool room and a book.  I lay down knowing that for a while I will not answer the phone or let dogs in and out.  I will not deal with anything except this soft mattress and excellent book.  Sometimes I sleep that lazy doze of afternoon resting.  The pressure of getting a good-nights-sleep is completely gone. (That may sound odd, but as someone who is not a particularly good sleeper, there are often nights when I watch the clock count down the hours until sleep is no longer an option.) Selfish, indulgent "me" time.   Little gifts of unaccountable minutes. 

The opportunity for the nap does not come frequently.  As the holidays get near ( in the wonderful world of retail, NOW is the beginning of holiday crazy) the dictates of work give me less and less quiet time, but when that golden opportunity presents itself I take it.  I wonder if we might all be a little less nuts with a little more nap?  Couldn't hurt.