A Proper send-off

Before we left this summer, our wonderful friends back in KY threw us a little farewell get together, complete with "miss yu" cupcakes and some really wonderful gifts for Cadence. It was a perfect send off, and we were extremely grateful. I'm just sorry it's taken me so long to get around to posting about it; I'm afraid the distance and lack of time now mean that I am not doing this sweet gesture justice. It was really fun, and very touching, and just generally great.

L-R:

Back: Breannah, Angie, Ben, Carol, Brittany, Kate, Me, James, Cadence

Front:Mia, Christie, Nadia, Hope, Angi, Ella, Anya, Colin

Dear Cadence, month 27

Dear Cadence,

This letter probably won't be as fleshed out as so many others have been. We've had some rough times over these past few weeks, trying to make sense out of a rather chaotic situation. I am, sadly, not with you today, since I was admitted to the hospital yesterday morning. Last night was the first time since you were born that we didn't spend the night in the same room. I miss my little bug so much!

Great Grandma Carol and Cadence

Baba tells me that you took it in stride, not happy, but like a good, strong, brave girl would. And you helped him through it, too. I'm sad, but SO proud of you. Hopefully I will be home very soon, but regardless, at least now I am hopefully going to be able to get better and be able to play more than I have been. I've been getting progressively sicker since we moved, and the doctors here agree: there is something in our new apartment, that is aggravating my asthma, and it's most likely mold, which I am allergic to anyway. Due to this, my airway has been weakened to the point that it can't adequately fight off infection, which is why my left lung is currently filled with pneumonia. I think this is going to mean more big changes for us in the coming weeks, Lady B...the doctor just left my room after saying that she didn't want to discharge me at all if I was just going to go back there. New adventures begin when they need to, often without warning.

But I will be ok. I'll get to hold you and tickle you and sing to you soon. I'm not sick the way grandpa was sick. Yes, this has been a somewhat terrible month, with drama around the apartment even aside from the mold, and my illness...My Grandpa Ed passed away early last week, and his passing leaves a hole that can't be filled. I'm so glad you had the opportunity to meet him, even if it was a brief visit while you were still an itty bitty. I'm so glad he had that opportunity to meet you, too. He was a remarkable man, a teacher by nature as well as trade, who left a lasting impression on just about everyone he encountered. I loved him dearly, and though I can't vouch for how deeply you understood what was happening, you seemed to care, with great depth, too.

I would often cry when I would get updates on his condition, and even if my tears were silent, you'd show up in my lap asking "are you sad, mama?" and you'd ask me why, and I would explain to you: my Grandpa is very sick. and we'd talk about what that meant, and why it made me sad, and most of the time you'd curl up against my chest and cry a little too.

Last weekend you and I flew out to Minneapolis, Baba following on a later flight, and we met Nana and Kelly at the airport and drove straight to the wake in Amery, WI, where he and Grandma Carol lived. Papa was there, and Grandma, and a whole slew of other relatives who you had never met, and I hadn't seen in a good 10 years or more. It was overwhelming and bittersweet...Nana took you up to the coffin to say goodbye, and she said you looked at him for a moment, endearingly, before getting sad and burying your face in her chest.

Cadence with Great-Grandma Carol and cousin Sophie

The next day was the funeral, and you sat right there with us in the front row, like a little angel, you were uncomfortable and sad, as were the rest of us, but you didn't cause a scene or distract anyone, and you didn't even fuss when I left to go up on stage and sing "All Is Well" with Nana and Papa. You didn't even get riled up during the 21 gun salute at the end of the service. You are a brave and wise old soul, little lady. You're a rock that helped us all get through a really, really tough time.

And it wasn't completely depressing, either, you got to meet a lot of cousins that were close to your age (or a bit older, but enamored of you anyway) and there was lots of 2 year old fun to be had. I have to say, having you and Sophie (my cousin Meghan's 2 year old) running around laughing, playing, and doing the same mischievous tricks on the stairs that Meghan and I used to did wonders for everyone's spirits.

And it was wonderful to see so many wonderful people again. The next day we got to see Grandma without the general chaos of post-funeral socializing before heading back to Minneapolis for a swim in the hotel pool and a nice dinner with Nana, Papa, and Kelly to bid them farewell. We had some time to kill before our flight on Sunday, so we got tickets to the aquarium in the Mall of America, and oh how you LOVED that! We went through the whole thing twice before we left.

And of course, we'd only been back for a day before I ended up here. I was already feeling ill before and during our travels, but once we got back home I just got slammed with this ickiness. I'm glad we'll be able to put all of this behind us soon.

But enough about events, let me talk for a moment about all of the chatting and catch-phrasing you've been doing this month!! You've picked up on a number of idiosyncratic speech patterns that add so much color to your ability to communicate. When we ask you what you want to eat or drink, you'll often add "...will be fine for me!" to the end of your response, or if we ask you what something is, you'll tell us in a phrase that concludes with "...of some sort".

You've also adopted a number of games that are clearly derived from the day-to-day of our new lives here. Among the more heartbreaking ones is the game where you walk into a room, usually carrying a backpack or some other useful object, declaring: "sorry I'm late, but I'm home, I brought food, but I have to work now." Which is clearly your reaction to Baba's new role as an ever-busy law student.

Which actually brings me to the subject of classes! You went with Baba to class yesterday, since I was here and out of commission in terms of childcare. My goodness you are such an awesome kid! Evidently you behaved wonderfully, and made quite the favorable impression on many people-students, professors, you name it. I guess I'm not surprised...but I'm still ridiculously proud of my girl. Those are hard classes to sit through as an adult and a paying student. You're two, and should have been getting to play outside or something. But you totally rose to the occasion and enjoyed getting to spend the time with Baba, albeit silently. You rock.

You did have some familiarity with classes, though, since we've been trying (somewhat in vain) to find you some classes of your own. Mostly just to give you something specific and fun to do each week, a consistent opportunity to meet new kids and exercise your brain. We've done several sample classes in the past few weeks, trying to get a feel for what would do the trick of being fun and entertaining, but still useful and worthwhile, with the right group of kids.

We've tried mandarin language classes and dance classes and I've scowered the web for anything I think you might be interested in...sadly, nothing's really jumped out as being exactly right just yet. A lot of things had their semesters start already, or the age group is too skewed away from where you happen to fall, or their just too derned expensive to be worth the partial semester we'd be able to take advantage of. I feel really bad that we haven't yet found something, but we will continue the search, little lady, I will not give up on you, sickness or no.

And to be fair, you really seemed to enjoy the dance class we attended last week, and the teacher was very impressed with you and was excited at the possibility of having you in class. I'm on the fence about that one though, as it seemed very ballet oriented, and I admit I have a bit of a bias against ballet. I don't mean any offense to those who dedicate their lives to it, but it is definitely an art that consumes you, and I've seen what it does to the bodies of its most devoted participants, and it's not pretty.

Beyond the anorexic stereotype, it strains the body and such so much that most ballerinas end up with major health issues before middle age. I want you to have the option of continuing to take whatever classes we put you in if you love it, and the idea of 'continuing' from this 2 year old class being increasingly formal ballet classes...If you must go that route, I'd rather you decide to go into that on your own, when your older, and can make an informed decision. I'd rather not have that blood on my hands.

Which, actually, brings me to another of your new linguistic acquisitions of late: "I don't want to deal with that problem!" Often, if you encounter something not to your liking, you'll cover your face with your hands as you make that declaration, and then get sad and crumble into a sad heap on the floor, sometimes crying silently to yourself as you do so. So. Cute. and Heartbreaking.

Related, actually, is another declaration that you use to express your distaste for a given situation: "I don't want that deal!" This one I'm sure has come about because of our increasing use of striking deals to find a balance between what you want and what you need, but it's still rather remarkable how nimbly you traverse such sophisticated waters, making deals and denouncing unfavorable ones. You have occasionally tried to use this one (and the problem line, actually) when there is no actual deal (or problem) on the table, but I think you mostly dropped that habit once you realized that it didn't quite work.

And here's another totally grown up catchphrase you've glumly adopted lately: "It doesn't matter. Nevermind." Almost universally, after saying that with a sort of mumbled, under-the-breath quality, you'll sulk off you your bed and lay down for a while, not budging.

Seriously, as Baba said to me recently: "she's basically already turned into a teenager. A Kelly-style teenager." You do bear a striking behavioral resemblance to your aunt Kelly sometimes. And other than the fact that she is a legitimate 16-year-old teenager and you are only 2, you little imp...it's actually not a bad thing at all. If you have to pick someone to imitate, you could do much worse than your moody but big-hearted Aunt.

Nana, Cadence, and Kelly

I'll conclude this letter with one last habit you've developed this month, one which certainly captures my heart. You'll be in the middle of playing, running around, yelling and being loud or reading or whatever, and then you'll suddenly slow down, get very quiet, cup your hands and smile sweetly at your palms. Then you'll come over to me or Baba and gingerly show us your prize. "Look Mama, I caught a ladybug!" you'll say, quietly and in an uncannily maternal manner. Then you'll let it crawl around on my arm or fly around a bit before letting it go, and resuming your loud playful business. "Catching ladybugs" has definitely become the favorite game of the hour, and its one that leaves me with a distinctly "sweet little girl" image dancing through my brain, and I can hardly believe that you're my little lady, so grown up but so tiny, and so amazing in every way.

I love you Cadence

Love Always,

Mama

Farewells

One of my Grandpa Ed's paintings, one of my favorites. The original hangs in my grandparents' living room.

Fall is here, strong and brilliant. It's the part of the cycle that tugs at the hems of our heartstrings, reminding us that we can't ignore the less joyous parts of our lives forever, that there has to be sorrow in order for us to appreciate our joy, and that we will eventually have to let go of this world with all its named things, and return to a wordless existence that doesn't recognize petty ownerships, but perhaps does recognize love, spiritual tribute - those truths that extend beyond the corporeal, if you believe in such a thing.

The season is hitting me hard, this year. I have been, truth be told, enjoying the crispness in the air and the faint hints of changing seasons quite a bit, though thinking more of hayrides than subways while I do so. But today was a sad day, and brings together all the sorrows that have been lingering, banished some as petty, and betted others as necessary woes.

I lost my grandfather today. I don't know how else to put it...my heart hurts. But I am truly relieved that he is no longer suffering.

In June, he developed some symptoms that presented like pneumonia. It turned out to be lung cancer. An extremely aggressive, fast moving, and nearly asymptomatic type, which I am told has been more or less directly linked to Agent Orange, to which he was exposed while working as a medic in the vietnam war. He went from being fine, to thinking it was pneumonia, to finding out it was cancer, to learning that it had metastasized too much for surgery to be worthwhile, to trying chemo, to finding it was having no effect, to hospice care, all in a matter of weeks. And today he's gone.

I'm sorry that I didn't get to see him before he went. But I am also so glad for all the times did get to see him, and hopefully remind him of how much he meant to me. I am extremely grateful that Cadence got to meet him, even if it was a brief visit, while she was very young. He was always a steady, silent presence when I was young, intimidating in an almost thoughtful, curious way that reminded me almost of playfulness. I remember his hugs being strong, and warm, but somehow, like a gentle giant, like he could squeeze as hard as he could and it wouldn't hurt me. I don't remember him talking much, but whenever he would speak up it was with such interest in life it made me wonder why he was so quiet. I remember assuming he was very shy. But then he'd create these amazing paintings, drawings, and it was always so much an extension of himself, that he was sharing in some vulnerable way, but had so much truth in it I wouldn't know how to respond. I remember his art studio in the basement, how his smell lingered even when he wasn't there, and how it seemed like a scary, but magical place. I remember how he would encourage us to explore, to fill blank spaces, and always seemed genuinely impressed with our creations, which always, in turn, genuinely surprised and excited me.

I remember how you could hear him snoring all over the house, even downstairs, and how that was somehow remarkably comforting - even though it was usually during the day, since he worked the graveyard shift at the nursing home.

I remember how on one level he always seemed like a fish out of water when he came to the city, or encountered new subjects, but on all the rest of the myriad levels, he was soaking in everything there was to absorb, and his apparent absent-mindedness was just his lack of attention to the superficial happenings in the room. We may have laughed, but I think that he was actually lost in the wonder of whatever it was he was discovering. Whether he ultimately liked something or not, he always let it affect him somehow, first.

I remember his laugh. I remember his breath, somehow always expressing things that were living within him, if not otherwise expressed. I remember how infectious his enjoyment was.

He was relatively young, and went so quickly...it's so hard to imagine my life without his presence. I've been so far away for so long, and yet, knowing that my grandparents - all my family, really - are there has always been a grounding feature of my life. I love them dearly, and I know that his passing is going to have a lasting effect on my life. As well it should, I wouldn't have it any other way; he meant enough to me that, were his passing to be but a blip on the radar...well, it wouldn't even be a possibility without entirely rewriting who he was, who I am, and how our lives intertwined.

I have always been proud of him. And that pride, and my love and respect for him, have not at all died with him. They will live on, into future seasons, germinating future life, and keeping him with me in spirit if not in life.

I think the best way I can honor him and his memory is to remember my own art, to press on with the exploration and filling space, and sharing those powerfully vulnerable moments that make artists artists, and to dedicate a small portion of that life to his love, encouragement, and his ever gentle, ever caring spirit.

My Grandpa Ed, my cousin Meghan and myself, I think we were around 4 in this photo. Note the corner of the painting behind us.

Goodbye, Grandpa. I love you so much, and I miss you, terribly, already.

Peace.

Dear Cadence: Month 26

Dear Cadence

Oh my, what a daunting month to document! And what an Amazing little lady you are becoming!

The day you hit the 25 month mark, you were officially Done With Diapers. We'd been doing the only-when-out-and-about-or-asleep thing for quite a while, but that day, you said you wanted to keep your big girl pants on as we ran our errands. We stressed that it would mean that you'd SERIOUSLY NEED TO TELL US if you had to use the potty, and like an unimpressed teen you brushed us off with that 'yeah yeah yeah, I know' attitude...and sure enough, you did. And you haven't missed a beat since. Even night time...I think there was one wet bed at the very beginning...and that was that. Amazing. We didn't even bring the diaper champ when we moved. Didn't need to. We didn't bring any diapers.

Even during the long journey, with all its hiccups and lengthy stretches on the road, you'd tell me if you needed to go, were unbelievably patient, and had narry an accident. We were all very impressed.

And of course, that brings up the all important journey: the big move to New York City. The last few weeks in Kentucky were spent in a bit of a crazy, half-real state, Mama was working the whole time, often being gone all night and returning just as you were waking up, packing, preparing for our departure, and trying to soak up as much family and friend time as possible. Though somewhat difficult, I think it was a good thing for you and Baba, you got to have goodnights with just the two of you, and spend lots of quality Baba Baby time before BaBa has to start going to classes and spending time working. The goodbyes were awful, but also wonderful because of the love and support we have, from everyone down there. This past year meant the world to me, and to our family as well. We could easily be in a very different place right now, if we hadn't had such an amazing, loving but not enabling, welcoming, enjoyable, and ultimately real embrace to fall into when we needed it. It was very bittersweet to have regained enough footing to move on.

The actual journey was a long, often hectic one, but we all made it unscathed. Baba and I got you a disc set of Kai-lan episodes as an emergency backup, and it ended being very helpful in the last stretch of road before you fell asleep. I think you watched all 8 episodes before you dozed off!

Kai-lan has become one of your favorite things now, and you've adopted her phrase "that's so silly!" into your own vocabulary, with your own unique pronunciation that doesn't really involve any Ls, and it's unbelievably endearing.

Anyway, we took a slightly longer route than we normally would have so that we could stop just outside of Washington DC to visit your Uncle Robert and Yeye. We had a great brunch with them, and then we all went to the smithsonian zoo, which was really awesome! You got to see real live tigers, lions, elephants, hippos, pandas, snakes, turtles, lizards...and so much more! You took to it very well, of course, and seemed to have a great respect for these grand creatures...it was very impressive.

Our arrival into the big apple was a mixed one, we spent the first day trying to get security clearance for the building, which involved a lot of driving around and being somewhat lost in queens, and finally making it to our new apartment late at night, well after dark, but waiting for us were several very good friends as well as your Nainai, aunt Audrey, and uncle Andrew. It was, as always, wonderful to see them all, and you seemed very happy to feel so much love around.

Since we got here, it's been a bit of a roller coaster - we've seen lots of old friends, new playgrounds, and a lot of cleaning, unpacking, and work to try to make our new apartment livable. I'm afraid it hasn't been a terribly interesting transition for you...though I do think that it is good that you've been here for it, to help understand what's happening, that this place is home, and how we're working for it.

You miss your friends, you talk about them a lot, and you talk about missing pepper (like the time we came home from walking charlie and you got very a little panicky as we opened our apartment door, saying "uh oh! where's the puppy?" and, to my response that we didn't have a puppy in new york, you declared, definitively: "Pepper is my puppy, and she misses me. and I miss her!") and the country cats, and of course nana and papa and kelly...and more than once you've just gotten very sad and declared "I don't like this place", which just totally shatters my heart. I'm not sure, though, whether you're referring to NYC as a whole with that, or just this apartment - which I'll grant you, has not made a favorable first impression on any of us. I lean towards the latter because you seem to enjoy our trips through the city quite a bit, and say that you like it when I ask...but I suppose only time will tell.

It isn't all sadness and toil, though, there have been some very exciting events. Take, for instance, our new job as dog-walkers! Our good friends Brittany and Kate have some family, a cousin of Brittany's, here in the city, and it just so happened that he and his girlfriend were in need of a new dog walker about the time we arrived. So, luckily for us, we now get to spend a little time each weekday playing with a wonderfully rambunctious, somewhat overgrown yorkie named Charlie, and nothing seems to bring you more joy than getting to spend time with Charlie. You tell everyone we meet, in the hall, on the subway, on the street, that you're going to go take charlie for a walk. It's so cute, and I'm so glad that you enjoy it so much!

Another nice effect of the move has been how much closer you seem to our kitties. You've always had a good relationship with them, but now you all seem that much closer. You seem to place much more emphasis on their well being now, and you chase them around with renewed vigor, all in hopes of giving them pets and hugs. And they, in kind, have also seemed to be seeking out your attention more and more frequently, being a bit more brave about stepping into your defined territory, and finding it an acceptable game if you decide to pounce.

And there was one major event very quickly after we moved: our good friends Lena and Zack got married in a ceremony that was an absolutely perfect representation of them and their relationship. Not only did we have the good fortune to be there for it, but you were actually a part of it all, making your debut performance as a flower girl.

It was supposed to be a beach wedding, but a hurricane came through that day, so, not to be outdone by nature, they got married at the Flea Theater instead. But the beach theme stayed. You had picked out a special dress at a very nice Indian shoppe, but the day of the ceremony revealed it to be too scratchy for comfort, so you ditched it, with the bride's blessing, for your own pink sundress, which you picked out yourself when you were like less than a year old. You both looked divine, so it was all good.

You'd been able to rehearse the day before the wedding, during which you ran the gamut of what a flower girl can do; first, you walked very slowly, dropping one petal at a time. Then, you walked a bit faster, dropping large handfuls at a time. The third run added in the music, and boy were you fascinated by the singers! you ran out to the middle of the stage, and stood there, transfixed, dumping handful after handful of petals onto the same spot on the floor. And the fourth time, you were kind done being interested in rehearsal, and you just ran.

So, the big day arrived, The bride and groom were excited, nervous and happy, and you started onto the stage stepping perfectly and reaching for those petals...and then you saw that full audience, all watching you, and you sort of jogged the rest of your course, bumping petals out of the basket as you went, and as you reached my lap, your sense of duty kicked in and you sat, very primly, in my lap on the side of the stage, throwing one petal at a time into the playing space. I think you would have emptied the basket had I let you, but at a certain point I realized some folks in the crowd were watching you and not the officiant, which seemed a bit inappropriate, and so I made you stop...but I take the blame fully for not letting you complete the task you had every intention of seeing through to the end, no matter what.

After the ceremony, the first thing Lena did was to turn and open her arms to you, and you ran to her and gave her the biggest hug...it was a beautiful moment, one I wanted to make sure you knew about in the future, since it is a wonderful example of how much love for you Lena - and so many of our friends here - have for you, and how much you've touched their lives as well. She'd been officially married for under two minutes, and you were the first one she hugged. You're a lucky lady, m'dear.

So, all in all, it has been a crazy month, with lots of stress, and lots of excitement, some not-so-great moments and some really awesome ones. Hopefully, as we move into the next phase of moving, settling in, we'll be able to expand our sense of enjoyment and fulfillment in our new surroundings, and meet new friends who can help to bolster us into this new place of forward movement and happiness in our lives.

But whatever happens, Cadence, I will be right here with you, every step of the way, to hold your hand - or let it go, and to catch you should you fall. Baba and I will always be within reach, and we can scoop you up and carry you whenever you need us. You're my brave little Cadydid, and I have no doubt that you'll find your wings and fly as soon as you are ready.

Love Always,

Mama

Too Much!

Today is the first day that Cadie and I are home by ourselves while James is taking his first steps towards fulfilling his dream. It is an exciting day for everyone, and Cadence and I wish him all the best. :-) We Love You, Baba!!! HAVE FUN!!

And as if that wasn't enough, within 10 minutes of waking up this morning, Cadence turned to me and said "Mama, don't call me a baby, 'cause I'm just a person." and also "Wow, Mama, that curtain feels fascinating."

What happened? Everyone grew up and moved on to the next level during the night! Aia!

Moving - Oy.

Good news and bad news. The good news is we have an official move date (leaving on the 15th, arriving on Monday the 17th) and an official (also, apparently rather nice) destination.

The bad news is that we've got a lot of stuff, a long drive, a 4th floor walkup, and an apartment on west 207th street.

So, who wants to help us move in? Even if you don't want to, feel free to feel obligated to. We're two country bumpkins with an extremely cute and precocious 2-year-old, so we'll need some seasoned New Yorkers to show us how to move in. Let me know if you, or anyone we know (but doesn't read this blog {!!!!} ) is thinking of helping.

Feel free to expect love and gratitude (and maybe food) for your trouble.

Dear Cadence: Month 25

Dear Cadence;

By the time I write your next letter, our lives will have changed dramatically. I can't help the fact that it is going to be a really hard transition for all of us, but I am going to do my derndest to make it a positive thing - for all of us.

This month has been another extremely busy one.

We've been rushing about trying to get ready for our departure, apartment hunting long distance, and trying to soak in as much time as possible with Nana, Papa, Kelly, Pepper, Cinnamon, and Jewels. Plus, Mama has been working full time for the last couple weeks, so it's been a busy time.

This month, Nana arranged for us all to take a big family vacation before we all move on, so you took your first long plane ride as a paying customer (you're two! my goodness! no more lap child on the plane!) as we headed out to Oregon, to visit Pat, Scott, and their critters and spend some time at their Ocean House.

I was relieved and worried by the idea of you having your own seat, but of course, you did just fine. You slept some, we played some, (the baby lions we gave you for your birthday were ideal travel toys, you delighted in playing with them during the long stretches in the car seat.) and generally made it seem like no big deal.

You loved the whole trip. You really enjoyed having Kelly's friend Chelsea along, you love Billy and Oscar, their two lively and lovable dogs, and Roscoe and Maybell, the cats, you loved the beach, and being in the Ocean House (which you said frequently, to no end of cuteness "I go ocean house now, mama?") and SEA LIONS!

There are some big rocks off the coast near the house which are home to many many sea lions, and we went a few times to the top of the hill, to a cliff where you can see them -and, if you listen, you can hear them vocalizing.

Girl, you LOVED those sea lions! You talked about them constantly! You wanted to see them all the time! Papa ended up downloading a picture of a mama and baby sea lion so that you could look at them even when we were in the house, because otherwise you would just be begging people to take you back to see the sea lions again. And some of us wanted to eat, sleep, and generally do things that did not involve standing in the sun on a cliff listening to sea lions groaning. But, I admit, it was VERY cool, and I'm extremely happy that you liked it so much.

We also zipped over to bend for a couple days, to visit Sandy, Al, Ben, Sam, and their dog winter. They have a pool there, and you got to take your new water wings for a spin...they gave you just enough of a lift that combined with what you already knew about swimming, you were able to SWIM ON YOUR OWN! With no one touching you! It was amazing! And you loved it!

And so did everyone there. You also got to go to a music festival while we were there, and you made friends with a couple other little girls, and you three spent a lot of time playing ring around the rosy, and dancing and singing. All in all, the entire trip seemed to be an incredible experience for you, and you lapped it up.

On the last day that we were there, we also got a really, REALLY special treat, something that I never expected to experience, and I doubt many 2 year olds have had the chance to do. Pat brought us to Netarts Bay, and we broke out the sea kayaks.

You got to ride in a kayak with mama and baba, with kelly and papa rowing their own boats along side us. Together, we all went out into the bay and paddled around for a while, which was totally awesome on its own, but the main event came when we paddled past a pod of seals.

They all dove into the water at once, and surrounded us, watching. We stopped paddling and just let ourselves float, and they floated with us, and I guess sensing that we weren't a threat, began to move closer until eventually they were swimming under the boats. One surfaced and took a good look no more than three feet from us! It was amazingly beautiful, totally eerie, very peaceful and quietly exciting all at once.

And then you declared that you were a Silkie. Guess I should have figured. My little irish babe.

Since we got home, you've been pulling blankets, towels, anything you have around your waste like a kayak skirt and played 'going boating'. You paddle the way we showed you that day and most of the time you come across some pretty seals. It's very exciting to watch.

The trip to Oregon was a wonderful last hurrah before we embark on the next journey; returning to New York City, and moving forward in our lives as Baba starts law school.

The thing that I most appreciated about the trip was how familiar it felt to me - the people we saw, the things we did, from the mandatory kickball game after dinner in Bend to the adventures we had at the beach, to the conversations that happened between events - when I think of my own childhood, that's what I think of.

It isn't the trouble our family went through later on, it isn't the scary events like my mom's surgical accident; all of that is there, but the predominant feeling I get when I think of that time is this sense of comfort among friends, with some good discussions, good food, inclusion, adventure...this trip didn't feel like nostalgia, it was the genuine article, and I am so grateful that I was able to share that with you and Baba in an unadulterated form.

I wonder what you are going to take away from your time here with us, little bug. I don't know how much, if any, of what we're experiencing now will remain in your conscious memory years from now, but I can see the tangible difference each new experience is making on you, moment by moment.

There is so much good here to remember, to hold on to...but even if you don't remember any of it, it will always be a part of you, in that deep, inexplicable way that experiences penetrate our very being. Whether or not you specifically recall the time we spent living with Nana, Papa, and Kelly, they have touched your life in a deep and meaningful way, that will never truly leave you.

Whether or not you recall, 15 years from now, your very first friends, your amazingly awesome friends - and I hope you do, because they are all worth keeping in touch with - they have been a wonderful influence on your life. You know you had about 25 people at your birthday party?? and everyone had a great time. You're a lucky lady, my dear, and what's more is that you deserve every bit of it.

I know that you are going to miss having a yard, your own spaces to roam, the critters, the family, the friends, the pumpkin muffins, the souffles, the parks, the horses, the birds, the rides in the car, the lack of crowds, the VHS movies, the record player, the drums, weeding the garden, the laid back attitude of everyday life...the list goes on. But I hope that it can be a sweet memory for you, but one that is good to have next to your life in the city.

A city with rich cultural life to offer, new friends, interesting sounds and sights, museums and concerts, the chance to reacquaint yourself with Baba's side of the family, and the rich experiences that will come with Baba's new career, and I hope to be able to share my work with you...that list goes on too, though sitting here right now it's somewhat easier to think of what we're giving up than what we'll be gaining, and it is harder to get a tangible idea of what it will mean to raise you in the city now that we know you to be such an outdoorsy kid. But I am confident that this will be the best thing for our family in the long run, and we WILL find a way to make it work, for you, for ourselves as individuals, for our family.

You've grown so much this month, and I feel like this letter just doesn't do it justice; alas, time is short, and we have a lot on our plates these days, so I will have to be satisfied, and hope to catch up sometime in the future. Does that sound like wishful thinking? perhaps, just a little.

I love you, little bug.

Keep that brilliant sense of adventure and curiosity. It suits you well.

Love always,

Mama