We’ve had lots of help from family these past twelve days, which has been nice. My parents came in town for the first six days, and then M’s mom came in Friday afternoon in time to do the pickup rounds and is leaving tomorrow morning after a round of drop offs. I’m feeling better each day, but there is most certainly still a limit to the amount of vertical activity I can do. I reach my limit and I listen to it. No backwards steps here, I hope.
I miss life on the third floor – I haven’t seen it in awhile. F’s taking full advantage of her freedom up there, selecting some pretty fantastic clothing combinations. She’s had a few meltdowns, but not too many. That’s a good thing – it’s hard to be stuck in one place, unable to help out. Our bed had become game playing central, a good place for homework help, and on most nights, the book reading station. I can walk up and down stairs now if I’m really careful, but it takes forever, so I limit the climbs.
Tonight Grandma was reading to F before bed, a book about a rainbow of colorful flowers. M walked into the room and overheard the book. He told F to remind him tomorrow and he’d show her a beautiful photograph he saw on Instagram of a vast field full of tulips – every shade of the rainbow. F jumped off the couch in her room and told her grandmother to wait just a moment. She ran over to one of her book shelves and started running her finger along the spines until she found the one she was looking for, tilting it out to grab it and take it over to the couch. It was a book on Matisse, and she flipped through the pages until she found Bowl of Apples on a Table. She pointed to it and swirled her finger around the inside of the bowl, over the apples. They didn’t get it at first, what she was talking about, but then she said it was a bowl full of apples, all the colors of the rainbow. We were talking about rainbows, right?
There is never a way to be there, all the time, to see everything. I loved this story, I love the way her mind thinks, the lightning fast connections she’s firing around the room, around her brain. M came down immediately to tell me that story, about the rainbow of apples by Matisse hiding on her shelf somewhere.