What makes a day memorable?
My first memory of this weekend will always be meeting my niece. My gorgeous wise lovely three month old niece. Daughter to my sister, baby of the family, new love of my life. We all gathered round, eager to touch and hold and show our love.
I still want to take her and run. That visceral feeling of see baby, hold, cherish, smell, sweetness. An honor, to finally hold her and witness my sister as Mother. The little one that used to pray us to sleep by reciting the name of every known person on this earth before we could rest.
Now a mother, a gorgeous glowing mother of Kayda. And my brother in law, Stell....a natural father, able to soothe a hot overstimulated little girl in his arms, secure in his knowledge, already so confident.
What is it with men these days? How did they get to be so good? Thanks to their Mamas (talking to you, Mona).
What else makes memories? Watching as my soon to be sister in law celebrates with her siblings a father turning 75.
A father who came from Cuba and built a life for himself and his eight children. A father who smiles for the camera, tends to the roasting pig and greets each as family, warm embrace, eye to eye. Proud of each one, especially his baby girl, last of 8, close to him and at his side.
Memorable. Our first real gathering since the twins came, at least since they became. The last gathering we hosted at our home was at their one month 'coming out'. It was my husband's 30th birthday and the day we introduced them to out larger circle. Since then time and naps and chaos and fatigue have prevented us from the attempt. Because, you see, when your direct family includes more than 10 people, all of which know 10 more, well, daunting, to say the least.
Today, we came back to the tradition of this home, that is, the tradition of open door, gather all, celebrate.
What a joy. Our landscape of friends has altered a bit. It now includes others with small children. Those that understand the world of meltdowns, chasing, splashing, and enjoying. It is not about us anymore, it is about them.
And each of the lovelies that came through the door, bearing child on hip and gift of drink, well, they get it. They know the world of child and enjoy it as much as we do. And though I did not have the time to photo the parents behind these pictured children, I can say I stand in a community of friends and family that have embraced the world of parenting, are figuring it out as we do, and enjoy it as much as we do too.
I will never qualify as an event photographer because I forget things. I forgot to take a picture of the Indonesian meal we prepared for all: the pork satay, the peanut sauce, rice and gado gado. I forgot to take pictures of the 40 odd people here enjoying it. I forgot to take pictures of the boys shoveling grapes into their mouths while eating with 'human' forks (a weird phrase I let slip while explaining why my children eat with regular utensils. Hey, at least they eat that way).
I only got a few shots of the kids in 'water world' before I stashed the camera in order to attend to my children that decided to patrol said 'water world' and run everyone else off, even the 4 year old. I did get a photo of myself at the end of the evening
and the two of us on the patio. Last guest departed, kitchen lights off, on the patio with a final beer. Memorable.