Archive
07/20/10
Our Story
Over the past seven days, Since the arrival of your two precious, precocious grandchildren — Savvy, age nine, and Parker, seven — From the faraway kingdom of Southern California, I, a seventy-year-old father, with a grown daughter and son, Have been transformed into a young parent again, With all the compassionate attachment to the magic that kids do, Just by waving imagination's wand, saying its incantations, As they unloose fantastical rabbit-bats from hat-shaped caves.
Having shared with them and you, "Grandma" Linda, Two screened-in-porch picnics, a movie at the theater, A swim in my high-rise's pool, An afternoon visit to a downtown sculpture park, Dinner at a pan-Asian restaurant, Several contretemps, the usual warnings, deprivations, reprieves, Readings from The Lorax and If I Ran the Circus, Not to mention forays into the arcane deck of Pokémon cards, I now feel like a family member.
What this says about us, Linda, seems clear enough, to me: Everything we do comes easily, naturally, when we're together, Whether it's mundane, romantic, serious, or fun. Through it all, we retain our independent identities, Even as we engage in a harmony that brings our souls closer. In the remaining days of Savvy and Parker's stay, Will I be the Lorax again or maybe Pinocchio? And when they're gone, who will we be? Does it really matter, as long as love keeps telling our story?
07/20/10
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