dragon tales and the water is wide
pirates sail and lost boys fly
fish bite moonbeams every night
and i love you

-dixie chicks, "godspeed (sweet dreams)"-

Younger Girlchild is 5 today. While it is impossible that Older Girlchild is 8, Boy is 7, Cousin is 6...it is inconceivable for some reason that she is 5. Maybe it's because, as I spoke with her mom on the phone today, we both agreed that it seemed like just yesterday she was born. And while there are hundreds upon hundreds of memories that I can reach out and grab, of all four of them, memories that make me smile when I am down and get me through my roughest days at work just by looking at their pictures, what strikes me most about Younger Girlchild is this: she is the first (and only, to date) person I've known since the day she was born. Since before then, even. And given my situation when she was a baby, and her parents' generosity in sharing their lives and kiddos with me, I got to spend a lot of one on one time with Younger Girlchild. And there are two memories that seem to shine for me, just of her and I. There are many children I have lost my heart to since her, including her siblings and her cousin. But in an odd way, she was the first.

When she was around 7-8 months, her mom asked (read: told, expected--exactly what I needed) me to be at their house every other morning at 8am. She would take the older kiddos to school, come home, pick up their other car, and leave me and Younger Girlchild with the van, to get the older ones at the end of their schoolday (which was not long back then if I remember right). And after tummy time and snacks and songs and kisses and games, Younger Girlchild would go down for her morning nap. She went down pretty well for a little one, but the way she fell asleep the best for me was snuggled up with her head on my chest, arms down by her sides, with me singing every song I could ever think of and then reciting Shakespeare and poems and then starting over at the beginning. I usually held her longer than it took for her to fall asleep, unless it was a long morning and my arms were falling off. But I will never forget how that felt, to have her settle in and sigh off to sleep. To have her trust me. I use to pace into their bathroom to check her in the mirror, to see if she was out or not. When she was I would study her face, seeing her mama and daddy and sister and brother stamped there, all of the beginnings and promises and innate wisdom that is housed in tiny bodies with huge souls.

I can remember vividly the first time each of them told me that they loved me. Older Girlchild was one morning sitting in front of their tv after I'd slept on the couch, Boy was curled up under my arm on their couch one rainy freezing afternoon after school, Cousin was one night at her house while I was putting her to bed. Younger Girlchild was one evening after a long afternoon with all four of them. A long week had preceded this particular Friday, and at that moment Older Girlchild was brushing her teeth and yelling because Younger Girlchild was in the bathroom, the Boy was picking out a book and yelling because he wanted to brush his teeth, Younger Girlchild was yelling because at that moment she was neither brushing her teeth nor picking out a book. It was, in a word, ridiculous. Hilarious. And at that moment, exhausting. A rare moment with them where for just half a second I was not sure that I wanted to be their "aunt" A that night. I realized this quaver of faith just as Younger Girlchild stumbled out of the bathroom, footie pajamas, eyes full of tears born of frustration and utter tiredness. She grabbed onto my knee and I was back in my favorite role in the entire world, there in their hallway, nowhere else I'd rather be. I picked her up and she looked into my face, hair strewn about and stuck to the drip under her nose, and sighs. I put my arms around her and she buries her head in my neck, snuffling into my shoulder. Then--"I love you, A. I love you." I grin over her head. "I love you too, Younger Girlchild". She shoves her head up. "I love you eleven hundred!!" I laugh and tell her back "I love you eleven hundred too." As quick as it comes, the moment is gone, and there we are, tired and happy and full of hugs and laughter and shouts. But after the stories were read and the songs sung and the hugs and kisses given and the reassurances that Mommy and Daddy would be home before they woke up were said, I walked into the hallway to see that little moment out of time, shining. Where she reminded me, as they have all done, that there is nothing not worth doing and no one not worth meeting. Where she once again reminded me of the promise of her life, and mine, and all of theirs.

So today she is 5 and I marvel at the person she has become. I am amazed by her vocabulary, her wisdom, her unending hugs, and her resilience. I cannot help but be proud of her. And I cannot help but be grateful. More than anyone, perhaps, she is what I got out of bed for during those long ago difficult days. Today she is tall and lanky, full of smiles and ideas and tears and stubbornness and the unbelievable imperfect perfection that all of these kids possess.

Happy Birthday, Younger Girlchild. I hope you get as much out of your time with me as I do. I know you will grow up to be a wise and amazing woman. You have a wonderful family, immediate and extended, and I have every confidence that they will guide you through your hard times and rejoice in your happy times in the best of ways. But for now, please keep on being the beautiful little girl that you are.

One final note that I meant to write sooner: a few weekends ago, I got to spend with them. We went to the pancake store, carved (and decorated) pumpkins with the Cousin, watched movies, drove up and down the "big hills" as requested, sang songs. It was a wonderful weekend. And as we were driving, Older Girlchild asked that we sing the "bedtime song". It took me a minute to realize what she was talking about: it was a song that my grandfather, my dad's dad, made up for his boys when they were no older than Younger Girlchild is now, on a hot summer night so long ago in a cabin in upstate New York. He sang it to them--and then he sang it to us, his grandchildren--and along with many others, it is a song I will sing to my kids, and my nieces and nephews, whenever they come along. I had taught it to Older Girlchild and the Boy a few years back, and they love it. That day I started to sing it and as they joined in, loudly and gleefully, I quieted down and listened to them chorus a song older than them, older than me, part of my own history and makeup. Listening to them that day, I was chilled suddenly. My grandfather died several years back and I miss him daily. Hearing them sing it, this stupid little song--well, it was a recycling of sorts. A simple moment. But a joyful one.

I hope their mom and dad don't mind me writing about them--if you do, of course please tell me and I'll stop!!

But again, for now--Happy Birthday, lovely Girlchild. You are and will continue to be one of my all time favorite kiddos.

hey girl where are you going
looking wild and puzzled and free
when you smiled and lassoed the sunset
did you give one last thought to me?
--jessica parsons-taylor--

election night, and while there are few things i like to discuss openly in a public forum less than politics, suffice it to say that i am worried. mostly because of the gubernatorial race, and the clear jeopardy that my job will be in if it goes one way versus the other--not to mention the hurt suffered by our clients if that same candidate wins. but as i said, i am not a huge fan of debating on open websites. so that is all i will say on that.

i was snuggling Bigfang on the couch tonight when the Bro came home from an hour or two out with friends. "aww, bigfang" he said, "it's a rough life, huh?" Bigfang just grunted and settled her head more solidly in my hand. and as i often do, i began to reflect on the year and a half we have lived together, the Bro and SIL and i. you see, Bigdog is wholly the Bro's. her heart lives in his pocket. she will guard the SIL and i when he is away, because to her we are part of his pack, and so we are her responsibility when he is not here. she knows his car. sleeps on his side of the bed. and Stinky is all the SIL's. that dog would follow my SIL to the ends of the earth. no matter who walks her, feeds her, or scratches her ears, Stinky goes to SIL first and last and in between. when my SIL is sick, Stinky becomes a hot-border-collie-compress and snuggles up with her; when Stinky is scared she becomes velcrodog, sticking to the SIL like glue. equally, Catwings is all mine. he comes when i call, whines a welcome when i come home after work, watches out the window every night while i fall asleep. he will ride on my lap in the truck, curl up on my stomach, step on the computer to get my attention.

and yet. while they each clearly have their favorite, the SIL tells me that during the day when she and the Bro are sleeping (they operate on a night schedule--they're not lazy), she will hear the quiet pad of Catwings' paws up the stairs. he will come in and pat along the edge of the bed until he feels Stinky underneath the covers, then he will go around to the other side, hop up, and proceed to snuggle up with SIL--checking in, she says, it's like he's making sure we're all good up there. on days when i am sad or tired or heaven forbid tearful, Bigfang is all about sitting with me. she'll plant her solid self right by my side and wait while i put an arm around her neck, hug her fur, tell her secrets that i don't want anyone to hear. and Stinky will let the Bro--and from what i've seen, only the Bro--pick her up, toss her up on his shoulders, and walk around with her literally hanging around his neck. these are meager examples. the SIL broke Bigfang and made her into a snuggle monster. Stinky and i ran together for so long after work that now she waits to hear me come in and then meets me with whines and jumps and wiggles at the door, just to make sure i know she wants to come. and the Bro has developed a love love relationship with Catwings, who really doesn't like dudes-- but the Bro can pet him or tussle with him, and Catwings loves him.

so what's the point of this silly little post? well. more than anything it was a reflection of how far our little family has come. but maybe tonight it's bigger than that, as so many things often are. we're sitting in a time that is unstable and scary. perhaps the worst is the feeling that we are simply doing just that, sitting in it. and while i cannot help but believe that the people i work with and work for are doing more good than harm, sometimes it is a struggle to see that. sometimes optimism is a job that i cannot complete. and some days, i want to simply give up, because change in every world i'm part of seems a very long time coming.

but then i think back to the first month we all lived together--longer than that, the first six months we lived together, in that first house which is 6 blocks and a lifetime from where we are now. you see, Bigfang wasn't a cat dog. and Stinky wouldn't stop barking. and Catwings would meow all day long confined to his room.

then we moved. Stinky stopped her barking. and one night i found Bigfang and Catwings curled on opposite ends of the same couch, each sleeping with one eye open but a newfound toleration. change was a long time coming. and i wasn't expecting to see the changes i did. but we got there. they got there. as always i find a lesson in our animals, our companions and friends, most definitely wiser than humans. and while i am sure that there are people who would say, "oh my lord, it's dogs. and a cat. get over it!", i am astounded by the powerful examples that they set for me. perhaps i am looking too hard for it. but there has been change. and that leaves me, more than anything else, hopeful.