Musing

Even if she holds your finger while she drifts off to nap, never bond with someone else’s baby, else they move on and break your heart. 

Bad enough bonding with my own four, who to my dismay all grew up and away. Early 1960 before Malinda was two years old, the Navy transferred us from my first ship, a destroyer in Norfolk, Virginia, to Naval Station, Mayport, Florida. One evening, we had Tom and Ann Byrne over for supper. Fr. Tom had been our rector at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Panama City during our years at Cove School and Bay High, and they were living in Jacksonville now. Seems to me Father Tom was either on the diocesan staff or at St. Mark’s. Holding Malinda and totally smitten, I’d said, “She’ll never leave her daddy.” Father Tom says, “Oh yes she will, let me disabuse you of that notion right now! Your job as her father is to make sure she does exactly that.” He was right, and besides my own I’ve bonded with other people’s a couple of times, not a good idea, and though that’s my hand on her as she drifted off to nap Saturday afternoon, I’m making very sure not to bond with my grandson’s daughter as she becomes more and more a person on her way to her own life. Great-granddaughter.   

Saturday: family day at our house. As the skies gathered up to storm, 

we all took a walk out on the marina, 

then back, bought ice cream at Amavida and brought it up to the condo for late afternoon snack to spoil our supper. To the girls’ disappointment, the storm skirted us but Tass snapped the double rainbow that it left behind about sunset.

And this is where I am this very early morning 

preparing to miss church and enjoy my blessings here at home as they assemble before again dispersing to the winds as Father Tom said they would.

T+ in +Time