Chuck was pookey as a baby. I made up a song for him. My sister, who babysat him, made up many. Ray was Raybeau (his dad's name for him), or just beau. He weighed thirty two pounds at a year old, we have pictures to prove this. One picture shows his uncle Gary picking him up, back bent, mock hurt. Dylan was and has been the Dyl, Dylweed and Dyllie.
I love these boys.
All over six feet tall, they are still my babies. And looking at them, I still marvel at their differences, am still amazed at the creation of life. And soon, however it will turn out, I will be a grandmother. And again, I will get to cuddle and hold a precious baby. There is measured exitement, very measured.
And here in this house, again, the cats sleep...ahhh, catsleep. And Dylan is home from school, reading East of Eden (John Steinbeck) and looking for a phone charger.
And Chuck will be over at three-thirty and Ray will be home then too, to pick up the Dyl.
A friend told me that it will change and that I will miss them (so much) when they are gone...oh heavens...if only she knew, I miss them already...
"As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things..." Ecclesiastes 11:1