Tuesday was the anniversary of my arrival at Covenant Woods. And what a difference a year makes – weather-wise, anyhow. According to accuweather.com, the high in Columbus on March 26, 2012 was eighty-four. Russ and Karen spent that day lugging all my earthly possessions from the U-Haul trailer into the apartment. There was no relief from the heat inside – the air conditioner in my apartment wasn’t working. They must have lost ten or fifteen pounds each that day. James, the maintenance guy, had the AC up and running by the end of the week, but it was too late to give comfort to Russ and Karen.
This March 26, the thermometer was thirty-five degrees short of last year’s mark, topping out at forty-nine. I must be adapting to the Georgia weather. Instead of enjoying the pleasant fifty-degree March day, as I often did in Ashtabula, I whined about the cold. I’m writing this on Saturday, and the predictors are predicting a high of seventy-five today. The anticipated high for Thursday, however, is a frigid fifty-eight. A week from tomorrow, they say we’ll have a high of eighty, followed by an eighty-three degree day that Monday. If the forecast holds, it won’t be long before I’m whining about the heat.
But before I start another weather whine, I need to give thanks to Nancy and Aaron for all the work they did getting my stuff packed and put on the trailer, and all the help they gave me over the five years I lived with them. And also give thanks to Russ and Karen for finding Covenant Woods, for getting me down here and moved in, and for all the help they’ve given me since I’ve been here.
Besides, there’s nothing to whine about today. The sun is shining, the temperature is sixty-eight, on its way to seventy-four, the dogwood tree by my porch is bedecked in blossoms and the bees are buzzing, the birds singing.
Debbie called Thursday and asked if I wanted to Skype with Hayden, Well, doh! I spent a pleasant forty-five minutes watching Hayden eat breakfast and listening to Grandma extol his virtues, or as many of his virtues as she could extol in forty-five minutes.
When I talked to Beth, Friday evening, she said, “Mom told me Hayden didn’t say very much.” I suppose that’s true. He didn’t count to ten in English, Spanish or German, nor did he recite the alphabet (he’s monolingual with letters). That might be because he was so busy asking for toast. “Toast,” he’d say, holding his hand out, “toast.” And once or twice, when he wasn’t asking for toast, he looked into the computer screen and said “Grandpa.” And with that, Hayden had said all that was necessary to make his grandpa a very, very, very happy man.
Beth went to the doctor Friday and got lots of good news. Both she and Hayden’s little sister are doing extremely well. The doctor told Beth the baby weighs four pounds, thirteen (if I remember correctly) ounces and is eighteen inches long. How the doctor knows that when the baby is snug inside Beth’s sizable baby bump I don’t know, but that’s what Beth was told. Beth will see the doctor again next Friday. The following Friday, April 12, the doctor will unstitch Beth’s cervix, and the doctor, Beth and all of us who love her will wait for nature to take its course.