My sister, Yancey is in town. She’s coming every two weeks now. It is amazing to have her puttering around my house. Why amazing? Because when I think of family, I think of her first. To have her here is grounding. Because her spirit and personality are attached to this earth and to me in a very personal way. So she putters, she’s off getting the kids and then to the store for every craving I may possibly have for food. I forgot tapioca on the list, better text it to her.
Annette, a dear friend, came over to read to me. Reading is way beyond me now. She wanted to read some of, “Conversations with God.” I never read the books when they were released. I am very interested in God and prayer and gratitude these days. And so we read, and we talked. Ever the Italian stereotype, Annette got me to eat some cheese and crackers.
I started to think about tiny babies. You remember yours, or ones you have held. Maybe not everyone, but I pictured the little nerve processes going on in little Quinn’s head. I would look into Mac’s eyes and say, “I am someone to you. I love you.”
And I ponder on having those experiences with my own parents. They mean everything to an infant. Now I find myself undoing my own connections. Not in a “running and hiding,” kind of way. It’s more personal: I look at each little nerve and the connection is has to me and this planet. And then I quietly snip it.