The night she was born, I was with her toddler-brother in the home she would return to, this time out of the womb, with her parents in a day or so. I remember hanging on the phone with Ken, who was at the birth to support her father in supporting her mother. I watching her brother play with a wooden train while we waited. Hours after he went to sleep, the news came that she was here — a beautiful, healthy girl. I hung up the phone (back before cordless phones), the long white cord shining in the lamplight, and cried because I was so happy.
Now she returns to us again, a beautiful, loving, immensely wise and imaginative 24-year-old woman who is on a roadtrip across the country and back again to Oregon, where she and her family have been living for over a dozen years. Rose, our goddaughter, came with her friend Liliana (also a gem who can sing like nobody’s business) Monday night (and slept on our porch futon), and I had the pleasure of hanging with them at our house, Danny’s house, and at Wheatfield’s this morning over very crisp bacon at an outside table while a man to the right of us played guitar.
It’s great to be with this woman I’ve known of before she was born, and it’s outrageously joyous to see how she’s unfurled from baby to girl who loved to sing and dance to college student studying art and cooking to this vibrant and brave woman. Rose sings melody and harmony, plays the ukulele, bakes and cooks, tells good stories, laughs easily, listens well and shares her life in some of the most stunning graphic journals (as in cartoon-like, but much better, like the work of Lynda Barry) that she assembles, a month of one drawing a day, and produces into fabulous work-of-art books. Both she and Liliana are so alive and compassionate, courageous and creative.
In our visiting it did come out that although she was our only goddaughter, we had another godson, who is now in elementary school. “So I have a godbrother?” Rose asked, then Daniel asked, “So Rose is my godsister?” Yes to all of it, whether they’ve met or not. In any case, I’m so happy to call Rose my goddaughter, and she’s always welcome to sleep on our porch again or inside too for that matter.