Night Visitors

A lot of near [or total] misses today:

1. Really wanted to go back to St. Cassian in Montclair for noon Mass, but when I got there, the church was locked, sign on glass door said Sunday Masses in summer changed to 7:30, 9 and 11. There's an 8:15 every weekday morning, so planning to go tomorrow if can drag self out of bed. Need to quietly contemplate Dad, on polished pew with view of stained-glass windows, the better to stare into and think by.
2. Was determined to see Dad today b/c probably won't make it there tomorrow--busy day with long appt in NYC and articles to write, fact-finding to do for next assignments. Went to my favorite greenhouse/florist, Bartlett's in Clifton, and got this pretty set of three mason jars in a metal holder, and had them filled with black-eyed Susans. But little Punch came over to play today, and H. and I didn't drop her back home till about 8 P.M., so by the time we got to the hospital, it was close to 8:45 and poor Dad was sleeping. It felt kind of crazy going in to darken his door then, but we told him we love him and will visit again soon, and that we were leaving the flowers on his windowsill, where he could see them.  
3. It wasn't a total miss, b/c just seeing him is settling and reassuring. Also, got to check in with Diana, today's nurse, for update on situation--her shift was 3 to 11. It always feels better to have the staff see the family behind the person, to remind them that he is not an anonymous old man passing through, that he's more than notes and numbers on a chart--although of course they've also seen Sis, Don, Will, Figgy, Moey, Pepsi and Anne. I always let Dad know, too, that I'm going to check in at the nurses' station and see how he's been doing. I also like to tidy up his room and rolling tray a little. But. I think this week, I have to summon up my courage and talk to him about how much I love him and do not want him to die. As in ever--though I know that's impossible.
4. Almost did not get back in time for Mad Men at 10 P.M., but did. Best show ever.

Pretty little miss: Punch. It was so good to see her. I love giving her a bubble bath, and she loves taking one. We pretend I'm walking along the beach and come upon a little mermaid and am surprised and scared. I used to play the same game with Figgy. Punch told me her name is Ariel, her friend is Eric, they collect seaweed for dinner, and the mommy mermaid is right over there. She also told me about a mermaid named Figgy, who is her sister. 

As I stood by, adding bubbles, checking water temperature, reminding her not to drink the bathwater, I remembered a rhyme I made up for Figgy. It just came back to me. I elaborated on it, with a real pearl and hand gestures. The tiled bathroom floor was my stage. I can be shy about performing, but not when the captive audience is one imp who is small, naked, wet and completely enthralled.

I'm a girl

My name is Pearl [point to cultured pearl on my necklace]

I'm in the world

I have a curl [twist one of my fat curls]

I like to twirl [spin around once, holding hem of skirt]

My ice cream's swirled [use hand to demo soft, swirly custard coming out of machine into cone]

My flag's unfurled.

I taught Punch what unfurled means. She was so cute. She listened and watched every hand gesture closely--soap bar poised mid-air--just as Figgy always did, so she could take in the words and repeat them. I did it many times. I knew it was something she'd take home with her, along with the pink box of Barbie fruit snacks she chose with H. at Stop & Shop.

This wordplay is a gift from my Dad--he has always made up funny phrases and sayings and names, especially when we were kids. He closely observes life and distills things into a few clever words. So now his gift is shared again. And not watered down after all those years, but every bit as entertaining. 

Good night.