how much love is involved

last minute gift-labeling with Natalie

"The surprising thing about second grade is how much love is involved."

Natalie said this to me while we walked home from school the day before her Christmas break started. Her backpack was strapped to her shoulders, her winter coat left unzipped in the warm winter air. I had braided her hair the night before, and now strands had strayed to frame her face messily. Beside us, Natalie's mom - my sister - and brother Andrew carried on their own conversation. I had been teasing Natalie about Jamal, her neighbor who I thought was cute and with whom I knew she played often. She replied earnestly with this observation about girls and boys showing affection to each other, then began listing names of classmates she knew liked others: Brandon likes Sophie, Brian likes Lauren. And on and on.

Natalie seemed exasperated by the intrusion of love into her already fairly complicated seven-year-old life. She also seemed a little bit curious. She laughed when I told her about a boy I thought was cute, and agreed with her brother that I should definitely not get married. (Although later, Andrew rolled his eyes while suggesting maybe I should get married because I'm too boy crazy. According to him.) For Natalie, there is so much more than romantic love in second grade. There is reading to be done and dances to make up and friendships to foster and games to play and win.

A few days later, Natalie stood proudly in the middle of my parent's den, the rest of my family sitting in a haphazard circle around her. The Christmas tree sparkled with lights and kept watch over piles of gifts to be opened. At Natalie's side was a small bag with gifts she had prepared for each of her cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. She handed them out one by one and watched with a big smile on her face as we all opened the gifts she had made or picked out for us. She was the only grandchild to choose gifts for us, and told each person that she had made that in art class or picked that out or paid her own money for that. There was so much love and thoughtfulness in that small silly heart of hers.

Indeed, so much love involved, I thought.

before they move away

When you live in Southern California, you get accustomed to certain parts of life: June gloom, celebrity sightings, incredibly un-functional fashion. And people moving in, and then moving away.

Another of my good friends is moving, and the decision came quickly (though the option was simmering for longer than I knew). It's not just one friend who's moving, actually, but a family - a woman, her husband and their dear nearly-one-year old son. I've been rooting for them to stay, but even more I've been rooting for their joy and nurturing. For now, moving to a place with some better job options and more family is that.

So I'm doing what I've learned to do in my ten years of living in a transient city: helping them wrap up their time with us as best I can.

Last night, that meant watching their son as they packed. I was really looking forward to this because, have you ever been around a one-year-old? I mean, getting them to eat or take a nap can be tricky, but all I was tasked with was being with him so his parents could get some things done. I was told this might include some snuggles, and I knew there would be some giggles, so I was all in. After arriving and catching up with my friend, I was led to the little guy's bedroom where we'd hang out for an hour or two. And then my friend closed the door and I was like, what the heck am I doing?

I mean, we read two books, played with his basket of shoes, found a few blocks. I found some tickly spots on him. I tried to talk to him because I heard that's a good thing, and tried to help him clap. But for that first stretch of time I felt a little bored, and then felt bad for being bored when I was with this incredible little guy. The thing about a one-year-old is that most activities don't last too long, so I felt like I was constantly looking for something new to entertain him with. And then I was trying to entertain myself. I reached for my phone but remembered I'd left it in the other room (and was then grateful for that).

Eventually we settled in. We played alongside each other, and I tracked him as he crawled to see what it was that he saw, what he was crawling toward. He made a few grunts and I imitated. We danced around a little bit. I treasured the moments he wanted to touch my face or be held or laughed. Soon I was done trying to distract him and myself. I was close to just being with him.

And then his mom came in and like that it was time for bed. He and I, we gave each other a snuggle-hug and I said goodbye (though not for the final time, that's not until next week). The good thing about living here is definitely not the seeing people move away. But the gift of having them move in, even if it's not forever, is something that can last.