I Am Skooter	«05.22.05 . home . 05.25.05»
So here's us, on the raggedy edge. My sleeves have come unstitched / From climbing your tree — Wilco, Muzzle of Bees

trees. baby girls. rings.

As a weekend project, a friend and I took down a tree in our mutual back yard - the friend is also my landlord - producing quite a bit of green debris. The tree provided little shade, and had a misshapen trunk that substantially reduced available garden space, so down it came.

This afternoon we loaded the seemingly endless quantity of branches and pine needles into the bed of a Ford F150 pickup truck; three trips to the Vancouver dump later the alley behind the house was clear, my hands were covered in sap and we were ready for dinner.

We headed upstairs, where his wife and daughter were waiting for us.

Georgia is just shy of two years old, and the cutest little girl I’ve ever met. Of course, like all borrowed babies, I’m spared the effort of dealing with her when she doesn’t want to have a bath, when she’s cranky and crying and any other time that she’s generally being difficult. I understand the truth of this, and yet I continue to fall more and more in love with this little girl.

While her parents cooked - although I’m a good cook, I’m not nearly at the level of these two - I played with little Georgia. I sat on the floor while she leaned back into me; I picked her up in one arm and spun her around the kitchen while she picked up keys, grabbed her Dad’s wallet, stood on the window ledge and stared out the window. Moving her from arm to arm, we danced around the kitchen. I popped her on my shoulders while we played a game of “can you see me” with her leaning over to my right, and to my left to stare into my face. It was magic.

And then she saw my sparkly ring.

I still wear my ring, and it floats these days between my right hand (where I usually wear it) and my left hand (where it fits better.) It’s white gold, and fairly shiny, and it was made for me by a friend - so I wear it.

Georgia pulled it off my finger, or I pulled it off for her, and stared at it; her eyes lit up, and she slipped it onto her fingers - two of her little ones easily fit inside.

After a few too many trips towards her mouth, I put my hand out for her to slip it back on - my left hand, of course, because the ring fits more easily and she’d have an easier time putting it back on. She held the ring up, smiled at me and flashed her beautiful blue eyes - the kind of blue that only babies have in their innocent youth - and slipped the ring back onto the third finger of my left hand.

I guess this means I’m married again.

A little work; good friends; good food and a baby girl makes for a perfect Victoria Day.

Posted by skooter at 8:03 PM This entry is filed under Friends.
This entry is tagged: Georgia