Under SnowdenSunday, June 06, 2010
Any decisions to sell our house (get rid of the stress of finding work in a declining photo market) are all tempered by a remark that Rebecca made about a year ago when I broached the subject of making ends meet one Saturday afternoon at the dinner table. Rebecca poignantly said, “You can’t do that. What are you going to do with the roses?”
As Rebecca becomes a young lady (she will be 13 in three months) I can foresee the day when she will perhaps not want to visit her grandparent’s or her grandparent’s garden. It is for this reason that I try to run a fun line between trying not to allow her to use our computers for large chunks of Saturday time while trying to make it attractive and pleasant for her to come and visit.
On Mondays I pick up the girls at school and bring them over where I feed them a quick lunch. In the late afternoon I pick up their mother and we have a repeat of the usual Saturday night family dinner. I love cooking for them and it gives Hilary, their mother a respite from work and having to go home to cook.
But this will change in September because Rebecca will go to another school, a secondary school, as an 8th grader. I asked her if things would change. She told me, “I will still visit on Mondays. I can take the bus from school.”
But it is obvious that change is in the wind and the idyllic days of watching first (a 4 year-old) Rebecca run into the house and out the kitchen door to the back garden on a glorious sunny day are about over. Over, too are the more recent ones of seeing both the girls run into the house and out the kitchen door to the back garden on a glorious sunny day.
But yesterday it seemed like old times. The girls were playing hide-and-go-seek in the garden. Rebecca was hiding inside and under a huge Hosta ‘Snowden’. I told her to be careful and not to step on the leaves. She was carefull. Lauren showed up and could not find Rebecca. “Make a noise so I can at least know where you might be.” Lauren said. She finally spotted Rebecca’s bright T-shirt poking through the leaves of Hosta ‘Snowden’ (and right next to Hosta ‘Gold Regal’). I hugged Rebecca and told her, “Thank you for playing with your sister even though you are now pretty well a grown up woman. Rebecca smiled and for a moment I thought time had stopped and that we will live in the house and garden and smell the roses forever.
My friend Rich Dal Monte wrote:
Alex: Houses, I have found, are not forever...
there is this