On saying uncle

Tonight had melted butter poured over it.  The last night of a visit of a beloved brother and sister-in-law and baby in waiting.  Spinach salad and wine, roast ham and gratin.  Watching a little girl vagabonding in fairy wings under the tre lights and feeling puppies angling for the most perfect rub, and then another.  Fire burning, spinning wheel whirring while I listen to this brother, the last to wed and indulge in children, as he reads the cream of our childhood books to his wife and her tummy and our children.  The children’s shyness disappeared rapidly this visit, and they have had time to revel in each other — these people whom I delight in so incredibly much.  So special to pass on knitted baby clothes that were worn by our father, so fun to share books and stories and ideas.  Then glasses of milk and everyone down early — one round of banjo and “Do you Ever Hear Me” and one of “Across the Great Divide” puts little ones brilliantly out — legs up on the wall, head off the edge of the bed in an impossible kink.   Tomorrow’s early flight will put uncle and aunt back into their city, remodeling their houseboat for new life, changing work, preparing for the third person joining them, joining us all in this clan of the finest kind of fools.  

Advertisements

About Lorca Smetana

White doves. Retreats. Insects. Languages. Making.
This entry was posted in Landsteading and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to On saying uncle

  1. Beautiful snapshot of your holiday! Miss you–

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s