I don’t often get to visit my niece, Big G, or my nephew, Lil’ G. They live across the country, so we Skype for holidays and I fly out a couple of times a year to sleep on an air mattress in Big G’s room. When she was born, the first of my brother’s children, there was an instant connection between us. The last time I visited, I arrived late at night, after the kids were in bed, then woke up at dawn because my internal clock said it was time to be up. I brewed a cup of coffee and sat on the patio, enjoying the sunrise before the heat of the day. When Big G woke before the rest of the house, she came to the patio door. My arms opened wide, she climbed in my lap, and our arms wrapped tight around each other for a hug. We sat like that minute after minute, happy to see each other again. Then we started talking about books and poems and cats and art and Paris and all the things that she and I love together and everyone else wonders how the things I love the most came to be the things she loves the most, without me ever telling her until she told me she loved whatever it is. The magic of family, of God’s connection, I think.
No one knows where Big G’s love of Paris came from. One day, she started talking about it to her parents out of the blue. They told me the next time we talked and I admit to being surprised. I fell in love with Paris when I was young and I don’t know where it came from for me either. Maybe that’s just what some girls do when they are growing up and reach a particular age.
It’s easy to share books and read each others poems. It’s not as easy to share Paris, at least not at the age she is now (a trip is planned when she turns 18…things to look forward to!). Then I realized it was easy after all. I could give her the gift of Paris, the iconic symbol of Paris, with my art.
Someday, Paris (link to poem)
Next up: Lil’ G’s art quilt