My son and my daughter-in-law (AKA the little red hen) are expecting their first baby at the end of July, and the other night I dreamed they sent it over here from San Francisco for the first two weeks of it’s life, for me to look after. They didn’t want me to feel left out.
They ring us every week. They come to see us when they can. I go to visit once a year. It’s not as if we aren’t in touch. Somehow, though, when momentous events are in the offing, Skype and email and blogging are not an adequate substitute for being together for real.
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