Here she is. Our newest granddaughter, Francesca Rose, already going by the nickname Frankie. . . .Only 4 days old, she left the hospital yesterday. I've already managed close to an hour of holding her, but we're back on the island now, where I'm juggling between term start-up and hanging out with a 5-year old. Faculty, department, committee meetings all structure a schedule that I'm working my assignment and lecture preparation, printshop orders, classroom checks and office organizing around. Pater and I are trying to figure out efficient ways to get Little Girl to her afternoon Intro to Boats Camp while still getting our work done and making some happy memories of Two Weeks with Nana and Granddad at the Beach. Luckily, she's an easygoing child who entertains herself happily for extended periods and who sleeps long and solidly and eats fuss-free.
We're working out some plans for getting back to the big city to help the new family get their routines established, maybe even find a bit of sleep. Life is rich and/but complicated. Three granddaughters! Oh my goodness!
Seems appropriate to include this picture of this morning's sunrise here. When I saw the sun popping over the horizon much earlier today, I was struck by this daily miracle's affinity with the miracle of Frankie's new life, the way she transforms all of ours. Hers, the sun's, they're both ordinary miracles, commonplace, but no less transcendent for all that.