Morgan and Reilly

Dear Priscilla Bennett Friends,

The cooler weather over the weekend was refreshing, and it looks like this week will be temperate. Harry and I straightened up in the garden—pulling weeds and dead flowers—we left my geraniums alone with their green leaves and red blossoms. They’ll last a while longer. I marvel at the cycle of nature—of life and death—and how in big cities, we’re swept up with the feeling that we’re bigger than anything else. It feels safe, but it’s not real, and we lose sight of our mortality.

My grandson visited on Sunday. He’s seven months, and I love being with him. It’s so reinforcing to see the beginning of the cycle, when Harry and I are more towards the end. Morgan teaches me about being in the moment. I lay next to him as he grabs my glasses, my nose and hair—wanting to put all in his mouth while giggling and grabbing his toes. I tickle his tummy, he laughs as I stick my tongue out, and he touches it with his small finger exploring the prickly surface, his dark eyes scanning my face. He flips over and touches whatever he can grab, slowly pulling himself forward towards, very often, Reilly. Morgan loves Reilly and keeps trying to get to him. Reilly barks, and Morgan jumps. Reilly licks Morgan’s toes, and Morgan reaches out to him as Reilly backs off—not used to a baby’s attention and a bit skittish but getting more used to it.

Take good care of yourselves,