solomina

This spring finds me in an odd sort of time warp. While last weekend was sunny, this week has brought rain and snow and hail and more frigid temperatures. The buds are bursting, but keep getting shut down, never truly allowed to unveil. My heat is cranked back to 70. I watch hard little balls of hail hit my picnic table, drop into the orange bottle of bubbles left open when we thought it was all over, when we thought we'd be outside every afternoon. It's been a true Montana winter. Continues to be. My only true mark of time seems to be the boxes on my calendar, as the weather keeps changing her mind.

But the time warp has to do with Solomon. He turns one on Tuesday. And there's something about these gray, cold days that bring me back to the days before his birth. I remember the Saturday before, a cold spring Saturday morning just like this one. We went to the first Farmer's market of the year. Found ourselves back at home. Nici came over and took pictures. The house was bursting with anticipation. We had no idea what he'd be like.

A year later, and I can't even imagine a world without Sol. His jolly spirit. His love of life and action and people. Solomina, as Elie dubbed. Mina for short. We all seem to have taken to the nickname. You should see Mina in action. He rocks a tutu pretty hard. Sissy loves to dress him up. They play mommy and baby. She gave him a kiss on the head this morning, grabbed a dog leash and said, Bye bye, sweetie! Mommy's going to get her exercise.
She shut the door behind her. Then walked back in.
I'm back, sweetie! How was your day?

She's really starting to love him. They are playmates. And it's the most beautiful thing ever.


The hail has now turned to big, fat, wet snowflakes. It's a day to curl up with blankets and read on the sofa. Write poems. Bake a big batch of cookies. Stay in jammies.

But we have to motivate. In an hour we have a brunch to go to. A baby shower for one of our oldest Missoula friends, friends we thought wouldn't have babies. Got a call last week from one of my BFF's in Cali. Another one who maybe wasn't going to take the plunge. And she's seventeen weeks. There's something about these friends being pregnant that makes me feel so deeply happy. This opportunity to live their lives fully in a completely new way. Both friends are total life lovers, dream followers. Their dreams for many, many years have had nothing to do with children. Yet here they are. Their worlds are about to expand in ways they never imagined.


And the really cool thing is, after your world is opened and amplified and over-run, a year goes by. Then two and three and four. And suddenly, you are in a place to follow those old dreams. They don't need you the same way. Life has expanded and, yet, there you are again. Your same, lovely self. Changed forever, yet still the same. Good lord this is rambly. But I think I have a point.

Last night I looked back at images of Eliana's first year. Once again I affirmed this blog. I don't regret writing a single thing down. I was so unselfconscious in my writing then. So raw. Let it all hang out. I want to get back to that. This is for me. For them.

The snow is now dumping. Ridiculous. The picnic table has turned white. Tomorrow is the first day of May. I sigh. Shake my head. Solomon sleeps. Elie's curled up to Madeline. Blocks and legos and dress up clothes and books are strewn about. All is as it should be.