Day 55: New Life
To walk past our dwarf lemon tree right now is to be intoxicated. Such a soft and sweet perfume! Never have we had so many blossoms all at once, never have we needed them more. The lemon flowers aren’t the prettiest, but the way in which they show off the literal fruits of their labor is remarkable. From day one, if you look very closely, the lemon is there already, just itching to grow.
This week my friend Corky became a grandmother in the hardest way - separated by hundreds of miles and a dangerous virus from her son Sam, and from her daughter-in-law, Sara - first-time parents. Parents and baby daughter Skye are reportedly doing well, and Corky is thanking her lucky stars and FaceTime that she can be at least a small part of these first few precious days. (What a funny world, eh? When I was having kids, the normal maternity hospital time was almost a week, and some of us lobbied to go home sooner or even have our babies at home. Our choice, hard won. In the Corona virus world, frightened parents are urged to stay in the hospital as little as possible and/or encouraged to have their babies at home. Midwives haven’t been this busy in decades.)
I’m thinking about my mom today and missing her, of course, as I do every single day of the year. But she raised her kids in a post-war world in which she believed fervently that things were always getting better. And she was right. Looking back, it seems we grew up in a golden age, nurtured by Mom’s love and guidance. And her optimism. And compassion. Giving birth right now cannot be an easy start to childrearing in a post-pandemic world we expect to look vastly different than the one in which today’s newborns were conceived. Congratulations Sam and Sara, and all the new parents (and grandparents) who’ve safely navigated step one. I wish you love, strength and courage. And I can’t wait to watch your children grow!