Some grandkids have slept over. They wake with speed.
They immediately
begin moving randomly. Flexibly, unplanned and spontaneous. Living in the
moment.
Unhindered
by their clothing. Their pajamas are fluffy, soft, loose, comfortable and
unfashionable.
They all decide they need new names.
They float
names such as bunbun, bonbon, waffles and snowy butterfly and fluffy.
They decide
nobody should be lumbered with the name orieles.
Kay
eventually decides she will be called snowflake.
Gertrude grabs
snowy butterfly.
Bruce
claims bonbon.
Replete
with their new names they are ready for breakfast which is just about perfect. Perfection
involves having a choice. In front of them are multiple little packets of
cereal. They have the fun of choosing the best packet. They all prefer the same
packet. Coco pops. But they are happy to shake, tear open and pour a colorful, noisy
alternative.
They lean
on the table with her elbows flayed widely. Exactly the way their mothers did
30 years ago. Kay sticks out her tongue and licks her lips. Her mother did that
identical same movement thirty years ago.
And now
Gertrude is sucking her spoon after each spoonful. Her mother used to do that. And
her mother used to look around the room just like her. Gertrude stands and kicks
her leg behind her. I am lost between what is happening now and what happened thirty
years ago.
Their
mothers always used to choose coco pops. Their kids have taken her place.
It is about
now Catherine used to say: I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.
Gertrude
doesn’t say anything. Gertrud just picks up her I-phone and says: Mum look at
this photo.
Her mum
says: Can I see it.
Gertrude: I
will email it to you. Did you get it?
Mum looks
up from her I-pad: Yes I got it. Good photo. I think I’ll tick like.
Gertrude now
takes a photo of snowflake. I’m sure she only did that in order to remind me
it’s 2020. Not 1990.
Phyllis: My husband and I took our masks to our son's house yesterday. He and his wife had made a roast. We were coming for our youngest granddaughter's second birthday party which was outside in the back yard. They also have five year old twins. We had to sit across the yard from them in lawn chairs. They would kick a beach ball over close to us so they could come over where we sat. My son and his wife kept fussing at them, Remember the virus, they would say. We haven't hugged any of them in six months. I'll always remember the virus. Your post reminded me of normal family days. Days with hugs.
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