Holding Her Hand

Won't you please come visit me over HERE? I'm blogging at the Democrat and Chronicle today.

Nostalgia

I recently spoke to a dear friend about the spring birth of her first child, a sweet little boy with ginger locks and a winning smile.

When I first heard the good news I was beyond excited. This friend had been a pivotal figure in my life during my pregnancy, delivery, homecoming, and the first two months after the birth.

On the day my daughter was born she came to the hospital and patiently waited in the maternity room hallway until I delivered. She took the very first, beautiful pictures of my baby girl with her father. She sat with me after the c-section, along with a couple of other friends, while I waited for the nurses to reunite me with my daughter who was in the nursery with her father. She was also among the several people who came back the very next day bearing smiles, flowers, and gifts.

Later, when I returned home, she helped my husband prepare the house for my return. She knew that my mother, who I missed so dearly and needed so much, was not due to arrive for a few more days. She lent us a much needed hand on that first nervous day back at the house.

So when I heard that she delivered a healthy son in May I felt not only joy but also a sweet nostalgic pang for that day, ten years ago, when she witnessed my transformation into motherhood.

Good luck to you, my dear friend. Kiss your sweet boy and tell him it's from his Auntie Christine.

Kindred Spirits

Last week we visited friends who had moved from Brockport to Oneonta. Our two families just "click", as they say, and we all settled into an easy, comfortable routine as soon as we arrived. There were late night conversations about everything under the sun, after dinner dips in the pool, breathtaking hikes, campfires, and wonderful meals.

Perhaps the best part of the trip, though, was seeing our two sons re-connect. They were best buddies before the move, and they picked up right where they left off as if it had only been a day or two since they were last together. They worked for hours with teeny-tiny legos and discussed the ins and outs of being a spy. They played hard from morning until late in the night when they collapsed in a heap exhausted from the joy of being together.

On our last night there, we all took turns checking in on the soundly sleeping boys. They looked so sweet and small, and beads of sweat sparkled on their smooth, unworried brows.

"They look like twins," my friend said.

My heart lurched a little knowing that the next day we would have to leave and that the boys' dream-like state of play would come to an abrupt and sad end.

When we left I fought hard against the tears, and I think my smile seemed cheerful as I said good bye. But in my heart I was sad to have to leave my friend, and even sadder to watch my son leave his true bosom buddy behind.

I hope it won't be long until we see them again. But until then, I know we will all hold each other in our hearts.

"True friends are always together in spirit." Anne Shirley

The Canal

Please come on over the Her Rochester and read my new Post: On the Erie Canal.