Three girls in the Girl’s room. It’s Memorial Day, so they have the day off. As such, they do the logical: they play school.
friends
Sunday Afternoon
First
F must have heard it a dozen times today. "You won't remember your baptism," all the "aunts" and "uncles" would have begun, "but you'll always remember your first communion."
The rainy weather will also stick in your memories -- the huddling under umbrellas as you make your way from the parish center to the church, some more others less worried about getting soaked. With so much white on parade, there must have been worries about soiling the all-white outfits so many wore.
But everyone made it inside relatively safely, with F standing toward the rear of his line stiff as a soldier.
"You won't remember your baptism," he would soon hear, but those are words from people baptized in Poland in infancy, like the vast majority of Poles. "You won't remember your baptism" is much like saying "you won't remember your birth," but it's not always quite the case.
Some of us have such a memory. The same priest who baptized me two years ago gave the homily today, the same kind of warm, welcoming homily he always gives. Our dear Father Theo from Columbia, a man from whom his love of God almost glows.
"Welcome, my brothers and sisters, to this holy place," he begins every Mass, and though he says it consistently, it always sounds fresh and inviting.
But today wasn't about the homily, or the hymns, or the responsorial psalm. Today, it was about a group of kids taking their first communion -- as big an event in most Catholic families as a wedding, I'd wager.
Indeed, in a Polish family, the similarities are striking. Both are highly social events, always including a large party afterward with food and drink, conversation into the evening.
#28 — Chance and Good
Beauty is the harmony of chance and the good.
The element of chance in our lives would probably overwhelm us if we knew its extent. A decision not to go with a newly-founded school's students on a field trip to the Baltic might lead to a chance invitation to a bar where one meets a new friend. A chance meeting of one's student with the friend's neighbor might get you both invited to an eventual wedding, where one suddenly discovers that the friend is really someone more wonderful than one imagined.
And from that string of chance -- or is it more? -- comes good. And so beauty.
A chance walk on an uncommonly warm February day might lead to a meeting that leads to a dear friend.
Contrasts
One day, a day of brilliant sun and warmth. A day of walking and running on boardwalks and paved paths throughout Conestee Park.
A day of friends giggling laughing freely.
A day of a little boy standing a little taller.
A day of friends.
Another day, a day of rainy departures.
I think we all agree: the first day was better.
Flying and Dancing
They’re not sisters, but they often act like they are, and occasionally they look like it, as well.
Of the three of them, L and T are certainly the most similar. Full of energy, always on the move, ever chattering, constantly seeking some kind of little bit of excitement.
L is a little weary to try something new until she sees someone else do it — like leaping from someone’s shoulders as they explode (as much as my tired legs can make them explode) from the water. She leaps prematurely at first.
Then, after watching T do it a few more times, she gets the hang of it. Timing the jump is critical, and she flies into the air so high that I suddenly worry that perhaps it’s too high. Sure enough, it’s a touch too high once, and she lands on her belly — her first belly flop, and she comes up howling.
Soon enough, though, it’s all giggles and laughs again.
And as suddenly as it started, it stops, as a heavy, sudden shower chases from the pool. But why? There’s no thunder, no threat. The youngest girls, realizing this, understand the implication.
“We can play in the rain!”
Why not? They’ll learn to see the rain as inconvenient soon enough.
Drop In
Old friends dropped by on their way home from the beach.
A trio of giggles and silliness ensued.
And as the two girls ended up spending the night,
story for all four girls in the house.
I wonder when they'll actually get to sleep...
Sources of Joy
Having someone play with you and your dolls is a great source of joy. “Pretend she’s…” begins most every sentence — and this time, the playmate will actually play along with the request.
Being surrounded by dogs thrilled to be with you and eager to show you is an endless source of joy. It lasts as long as the dogs’ energy, hence it is truly seems infinite.
Having a good stretch after filling your belly is joy that at its very center is complete contentment.
For good friends, it’s something a simple as sharing food — a freshly-picked cherry tomato or a plate of pierogi.
Untameable tomato plants that tower above you are a promise of present and future joy.
And the greatest source of joy is seeing all those you love happy.
Perfect Days
Some days are simply perfect.
Some days are filled with just enough of the adventure of the new and the comfort of the known to keep your eyes open but your spirit relaxed.
Such days are filled with napping and affection.
Such days have just enough hint of gray
that we appreciate the smiles that follow.
Some days are filled with friends and family, smiles and conversation, and the comfort of knowing that you belong just where you are.
These days have a hint of belle epoque and impressionism.
And they smell like dogs.
Apples 2011
It's a yearly tradition now, the herald of autumn, and if we lived in a colder climate, it would serve as a bookend to the summer.
The selection is diminished at this time of year: the McIntoshes are long gone, if that's your apple. Honeycrisp tress are long bare, and Pink Ladies are still not ripe. Of course, there's always Red and Golden Delicious, as well as Granny Smiths, but those are at the very bottom of our list of favorites.
There are a few Cortlands on the tress, though, and if you look hard enough, you'll find a McIntosh or two still hanging around.
And of course there are loads of Fuji apples.
We can easily fill the baskets with Fuji, and the Girl adores that particular cultivar.
The apples, of course, are only a means to an end, which is spending time with close friends.
