granddaughters

[ljgeoff]

Last night, I held my granddaughter Torrin and sang to her. She is just a tiny thing, five weeks old, so I could hold her along the length of my forearms and cradle her head in my palms.

She watched my mouth as I sang. Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do. I'm half crazy over my love for you. I sang it slow and steady, holding on to the notes, and she watched me, my lips, my eyes, up around the shape of my forehead and down to my chin. Her mouth moved, opening into an oooh when I sang dooo. Sometimes she would simply smile.

There is something here that Western culture has lost a bit.

The night before last, I went to sleep thinking of death, of getting old and Mike getting old and how, sooner rather than later, we will die. I was actually laying in bed and trying to decide if it would be better if I died first or if Mike died first. Of course, I'm worried about my damn brain; stupid, stupid thing.


Camp cooking with Willow


Sewing with Ella

But. When you get to experience the power of the crone, you realize that it's all about creation. Here I am, singing to this new life. Kayla, Torrin's mother, is fresh and lovely, but she does not know the things that I know. And me, not having to spend the energy to not only make and feed this little life form, but to do the day to day care -- well, I have so much more energy for the fun stuff. Like singing.

Or sometimes we just nap.

Comments

[serene]

Gorgeous.