Category: Vincent
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Friday Miscellany.
The Marine Honor Guard attended Uncle Joe’s funeral — “Taps” is the most devastating music — you respond viscerally, instantly. Even as we mourned, though, I was glad that they came, that they honored him, that he was remembered. Funerals, memorial services — they’re important. That kind of communal grief is comforting, the communal recognition…
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Weekend of Mourning.
Uncle Joe died last night. He was close to 90 and looked it, a WW II vet who had quite a time watching Flags of Our Fathers with my brothers and cousins when they took him to the movie, and the kind and loving family patriarch, the eldest brother as my dad was the youngest,…
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Enough to break a poor mother’s heart.
It’s taken me a few days to process, deal, & forgive, but the story is this: I came home from work on Sunday to find that my darling husband had given our precious son a haircut. And not just any haircut, but….a mullet! He cut my precious baby boy’s soft blond curls & transformed him…
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More & Less.
I celebrated prematurely, we are not through yet, but–I can see a break in the clouds–Vincent’s not well, yet, but he’s less unwell than he was. So that’s enough of that. * An interesting thing about submitting to Subtropics is that they only respond via email, whether you submit electronically or post, so no SASEs…
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Ode to Illness.
My shingles are improving, the rash receding, the pain lessening. But pale Vincent is still vomiting spectacularly whenever solid food hits his belly, so we’re trying to be nurturing and patient and insist on clear liquids though in between bouts he cries passionately to nurse. O it wrings our hearts. So lacking time or brainwaves…
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House of the Ill.
No rest for the weary. Poor Vincent has a yakking bug, and we must all be up at odd hours conducting clean-up and making soothing sounds. Nothing clenches my heart more than seeing his little frame doubled over and shuddering. But, to file under Amazing Resilience of Children: 3:35am, after copious display of stomach contents…
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The lion sleeps…
My husband hid in our bedroom napping while I played with Vincent, chasing him around the apartment, etc (which I’m sure our downstairs neighbors love) & generally keeping him occupied & sneaking food to him–which is the only way you can get V. to eat sometimes, by pretending that the eating isn’t happening, no sir,…
Marie Gauthier 