Sweet Sixteen

Of pretty dresses

What blessings we have held,

What beauty we have seen

Today is a day of reflection once again.While the rest of the world rises early to begin their work week, I am vanquished to home and must find things to occupy my time.

First I shall clean up from the weekend.

Which for me really is the strong end. I spend my weekends being pulled about like the little red wagon. Places to go, things to do, people to see. I stick my hand out like the little black handle and someone pulls me up curbs on sidewalks, past cashiers in grocery stores, down aisles of auditoriums. The little red wagon spins her wheels and squeals in protest as she stumbles from one thing to the next. Then she sits empty all the day long as the people who were once on the other end go about their work week.

It was so enjoyable. All the goings on. Now I shall sit and ponder.

We went to several music events that my daughter played cello in. One of which she had a solo with a bass singer in a Requiem. It was beautiful. but I was a bit unprepared. Yes, she had complained about her sliced index finger and the string placement just under all that super glue and new skin polish. But she hadn’t said specifically that she had a solo! It was so moving. There was no new dress though.

The social media was alive with the young boys and sweet girls in their pretty prom dresses. My girls had recital dresses instead of banquet dresses. I remember when my daughter was born half my life ago. Her dad went right out and bought her a pink dress to wear at her baby dedication a month later. He has always loved buying dresses for his girls. I still hear him say “do you need a new dress for…” whenever their is some event ahead.

This year is especially significant as I turned 50, my first turns 25 and she will give birth soon to her first. My mother , great-grandma has also celebrated her 75th. Wow will that ever be a good four generations picture to take. Numbers while not being my forte, have suddenly become important this year.

When I was sixteen, I would never have thought what life would be like at 25, 50, or 65. Life was it’s own day to day existence. My first was recollecting that when she was 16, we had done a video questionnaire and considered those 5 and 10 year goals. Yes it would be interesting to see what they thought back then.

So this sixteenth blog is not about anything in particular, but just an update on the goings on in my life.

Yesterday was the baby shower for my new grand-baby-to-be. What an enjoyable day. My favorite memory is of all the little girls in their little dresses sitting cross legged on the floor. They were the honorary gift bearers for the day. It was their special duty to retrieve the gifts from the table and lay them at the momma-to-be’s feet. Teaching them to serve and be patient and to be joyful in another person’s joy. What fun! Their exclamations over the gifted dresses was lovely.

We had an overnight guest of the younger daughter’s in our home for the weekend. An adopted daughter is always a blessing to hug also. Even if she belongs to me only because she is a friend to my daughter, I sill spend much time in thought, in care, and in prayer for her well being. A friend of my child’s becomes a friend of mine in no time at all. Love those hugs and kisses of blessing also!

The baby shower was a bit overwhelming and my instinct to care for my own, makes me want to go put everything away and help prepare the nursery. but i am not the parent this time and cannot be over bearing. I’ll wait until I’m asked or offer and see if a time is suggested.

At sixteen, I would never had thought that by this time in my life I would be thinking about what my grandmother name would be. Am I a nana? How about Granmy? Or maybe Oma? Yes as a nod to the remembrance of our Jewish holocaust survivors, I will be an Oma. The little girls that wanted to keep their dresses pretty though the concentration camps, think so fondly of their grandmother’s who lost their lives. Those grandmother’s who loved them so . Oma. The adopted grandmother’s in the camps. Oma. The greatness of grandmother’s become it great grandmother’s. Oma.

I shall be Oma Von.

And when whis little girls is sweet sixteen, I shall buy her the prettiest dress ever.

Even if I cannot see it. She can describe it to me and what blessings we will hold, and what beauty we shall see.

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