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.
No comments:
Post a Comment