Getting up fairly early is easier for me when there's something to look forward to - and working is not reason enough sometimes. It was much harder because I had not recuperated from the long weekend with the Caron girls, and even harder knowing it would not just be Jacob I'd be spending the morning with; but his sister Sara as well.
My first time with Sara was when she stayed home from school, recovering from a fever. It was an okay time, but she drove me crazy with all the words that would spew out from her little self and that she followed me around everywhere. Needless to say, I wasn't looking forward to a peppy day of Sara.
The first thing Sara said to me on Monday morning, after "hello," was "Can we do SpinArt?"
(oy! I wanted to say "For Pete's sake child! I just walked in.")
"Sure Sara, but may I please have a couple of minutes to get situated first? I just got here."
She gave me time, which I was very thankful for, but her usual jabber wore me out.
"Angeline, can you please tell me about 101 Dalmatians while you set up SpinArt?"
"Angeline, can you please tell me more about that girl Jane you were talking about before (she was referring to the movie Tarzan) while we do Spin Art?"
all of my responses to her questions were often interrupted with more questions, of course.
I had to change Jacob's diaper later in the morning so I asked him to come along with me upstairs. Hoping for a breather from Sara, I mentioned that she could wait for me downstairs and that I would be right back. Much to my dismay, she said she'd come up so I could tell her about my family while I changed Jacob and that after he's all clean we could go to her room and set up a family of PollyPocket people.
(oy!)
I gave her the run-down on my brothers and sisters, we also played PollyPocket.
And while we played, I learned something about Sara. She's sincerely inquisitive, sincerely curious, and serious about the answers she receives.
She informed me that her grandfather died some time ago, and asked if I'd had anybody in my family die.
"Yes, my grandmother."
And that's when I began to truly appreciate Sara's curiosity and love of conversation.
"Well, what did she look like? Maybe you can tell me about her," Sara said.
I began to tell her about how poised she always was, had short curly hair and how I don't ever remember her wearing pants ... she was always in a dress. I was suprised to find myself warmed with thoughts of her, and as I continued to tell Sara everything I could remember I caught myself getting choked up.
I regrouped as I concentrated on the answer to this question she asked next:
"But when did she die?"
And felt sad once again when she asked if I "always [saw] her before?"
I did ... until we moved here.
I let Sara know that. And although I didn't let Sara know about how much I loved my Mama Lola, and that I'm not so sure I even let Mama Lola in on that love, I felt it in my heart through that conversation and I'm certain Lola did too.
It's strange ... I arrived at the Mesko's bitter and anxious at the morning I'd have to spend with Sara, but I left feeling thankful for the morning that Sara gave me.
(sigh)
-A
1 comment:
I wish I had been able to meet Mama Lola. Yesterday in my parents basement as we looked through photos, I had a strange sensation when you asked who some people were. In my head I was thinking, "Surely you already know them," but in truth there were many you haven't met, some of whom are no longer with us. I guess the feeling was due to the fact that I feel like you and I have always known each other, and that we are so close, how could I know and love someone like my grandma that you never have met. So I guess in the end that is a good thing. A sign of how close we are, that while we didn't really know each other then, we kind of did. All those things you described in your Mama Lola I see in you today. Although you do wear pants sometimes, I think if we lived in a warmer climate, your legs would only be found in a skirt.
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