Ray-O-Sunshine-Frances-Bean

Lifting Franny in and out of her car seat this morning. The strap is tangled and she can tell I don’t really know how to fix it but she puts her sippy cup between her legs on her ruffled jean skirt and lets me fumble and helps me get her arms in, and asks for her mom who we just dropped off for an appointment. I tell her we’re going to play on the playground and after that we’ll go get mommy, so she smiles because I am so happy to see her; I am more thrilled than I’ve ever been to see a child in my life. I have been away from her and my sister Zoe for two days. I wept copiously for about twelve hours straight when they left on Wednesday. I get to see them again for a few hours today. After today, it is likely that I won’t see her again for months. Maybe four months. I will go there for her 2nd birthday in October. Cera is driving to the playground and we’re like a comedy routine, me trying to get Franny into the seat, Cera trying to get two carriages into the trunk because she has her six month old son Eddy. Frances says Eddy’s name, it sounds like Ehheee. We’re in and driving and I’m turned around in my seat holding her hand and she makes the sign for her baby, (rocking) and asks for her. She’s in the back I say. Dumb me, her baby doll is in the trunk. She rubs the back of her hand under her chin back and forth which is baby-sign language for blankie, and I say, that’s in the back too, but I’ll get it when we get to the playgound and she’s somehow ok with that. I feel like Amelia Badelia. The sign for blankie is really the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life, that little paw, that face, those wide eyes, the dearness of this; it’s heartbreaking.

She’s reasonable, which is a strange thing to say about an 18 month old, but she is, she listens, and is patient, and understanding, and there is a palpable wisdom and tenderness about this girl. Something crazy transcendant. When we get to the park I say, here it is, here’s the playground, Yay! and she imitates, eeeYay!! It’s gross how cute her voice is. Watching Franny stroke the silken edge of her blanket up and down between her middle and ring finger while gazing out of the car window is one of my favorite sights, by the way. She says awww, when she sees a baby, or cat, and pants when she sees a dog, and says yeah, or huh definitively when you ask her if she likes something. If she gets wet or dirty she points it out, but she’s ok with it, she’s sensitive, but chill. She’s sleeping in all different houses and on this whirlwind two week friend and family visiting tour with her capable calming mom, and waking up at 4am and screwed up with travel, and I tell you, this kid is better at coping than any adult I’ve met, and even in her crankiest, rummy, tripping over her feet tired state, she is good. Good. She’s crazy-dancing in her swing while I push her, and laughing at my flailings, and when Cera and I crack up for real and she hears us, she joins in like huhhuhhhuh, imitating us and trying to laugh with us even though she has no idea what’s so funny.

I am running after her in the wet grass of the park, and she can’t go on the slides since they’re soaked because it rained, but we’re playing the I’m gonna get you game, and she is squealing, and waddling, and loving whatever we do. I say, you love to play ball don’t you, as I am describing to Cera how coordinated she is, I say, you kick the ball, and you love it, don’t you? Yeah, she says. The best thing in the world is having Frances say, yeah, nodding her head, eyes sparkling because she knows I get how much she loves it, and she is thrilled to be talking about her kicking a ball, and let me tell you, I am completely in love with my little niece, glory be to god that she is on this planet.