Papa's girl

Twenty-five, today is her birthday, Kristen is 25 today. Memories of first holding her, Joy bringing her, newborn swaddled, into the room and asking, “Who wants to hold her?” My instantly jumping up and saying, “Me, I do,” and to Linda, “Get away, woman, you can hold her later,” I’m not proud of that but it’s part of the moment. 

That was 1993, January 13th, 1993. At births in 1958, 1960 and 1972 hospital and maternity ward rules were far different and I had never been allowed to hold or even touch the baby until we arrived home in the car. So that 1993 predawn, bonding with another Being, more seizing, capturing, crushing, devastating, imprisoning, consuming, than the sudden realization, which comes but seldom in one’s lifetime, of being in love. 

Returning to the hospital the next morning driving Ray, five years old, to see his new sister, my taking Kristen again and saying, “Hello, Papa’s girl,” Ray correcting me, “Papa, she’s not yours, she’s ours,” and my thinking to myself, “We’ll see about that.” Minutes later Malinda, from the hospital bed, saying to me, “I’ll take her when you get tired of holding her,” and my responding, “Let me tell you something: that’s not gonna happen.”

You don’t own a child. A child owns your soul.

Kristen’s parents divorced about six months before she was born, and I adopted her when she was very young.

Today we’re taking her to choose a rolling chair for her classroom, she’s a teacher. Then somewhere for a late lunch, maybe oysters.

After yesterday’s 73° weather, winter has returned, it’s 30-something outside, chill, wind from the north at 12 mph, sky totally overcast, but sunshine promised for the Saturday. Sunshine.

Emily in Our Town, “Does anyone ever realize life while they live it?” I’m trying. Been trying real hard ever since the night I first saw the play at the Bay High auditorium in, what? spring 1952.

DThos+ way downstream in +Time+ 

still thinking, loving, Be-ing