After our trip to Florida, where we were super relaxed, the very next day, my husband who doesn't do well with leisure announced that he was taking the kids to Carlsbad Caverns. Now our three grandkids are a boy of fifteen a boy of eight, and a girl who just turned five. And the drive is six hours, if you're not a big side-road taker and explorer, which he is. I didn't think the parents would just let them go, the next day, no plans or anything. But it was the end of spring break and go they all did. During this time, a trip into the caverns, the earthquake hit Japan. The kids were going underground that very day and Mike told them to notice how fragile the stalactites and stalagmites were. How long it took to form them proved than being there was a safe place to be. They were delighted with the caves, though Mike thought they tore through it too quickly and said next time he goes he will be taking their children. A highly unlikely occurrence.
The long drive was the challenge, but they all came home safe and sound-proofed with earphones and devices which probably saved Mike's sanity for the six hours each way. Then all stayed at our house the night of their return.
Kaylee at five wanted to know, if everything has a mother, who was the first person? Galen was telling her about the big bang, then I was telling her that it was a great mystery and various religions had different versions, Adam and Eve for one. "I know, I know!" said my grand girl."The first person was God.
And God's mother and father. And they were farmers." Her perfectly imperfect logic made my week.
Maybe you have to run away for three days, drive the kids to inside the earth, and drive home to have the moments of truth. Maybe, since I stayed home, the whole trip was full of such gems. I admit I treasure my time with the kids and my time alone, twenty nine years with our children in the house. We're lucky. We enjoy one another greatly when together, and go days or weeks apart. Hope just moved to Albuquerque but comes home some weekends to the yurt and to Leland. Tammy is commuting to Albuquerque for her Dental Hygiene program.
You would have to find an outing closer to home for me to don my grandmother shoes. Since everything has a mother, even time, even a poem, even my scroungy dog Cielo Mellow even the earthquake, even wind, may I be the mother of solitude, the mother of experimental happiness, the mother of last week, the mother of trading memory for laughter. I am also the mother of allowing myself to blog and grandparent with great joy. Which is this evening, a sabbath in March, the sweet wine waiting for me to pray over it. The grandkids are in their own homes, Carlsbad inside them thanks to a fearless man.
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