I was going to post today about waiting for our granddaughter. I was going to talk about how I imagine her all cozy and warm inside her mother’s womb, no scratchy or confining clothes to irritate her skin, no hunger pangs or distress from digesting food, her nutrition pumping directly into her tiny body from her mother.
Even though we are anxious to meet her, yesterday I thought, Let her stay in her comfy cozy place for a while yet. Let her stay until she is ready to leave, for she’ll never know the likes of that again and she will be here soon enough. The journey out into this world will likely be uncomfortable and frightening for her. Let her stay a little while longer.
Last night when I went to bed, I thought this is what I would post about today.
Instead, an hour and a half after a 5:16 a.m. phone call, Mark and I are moving through the night rushing along the highway in the dark, a line of red tail lights lighting our way from the cars of those who are trying to get to work on the front edge of rush hour. But we’re not rushing to work. Our bags are packed and stowed in the trunk, my computer, camera, and video camera in the back seat. We are at the beginning of a 6-hour drive to St. Louis to meet our granddaughter when she arrives.
It’s going to be a great day.