|Rian and me at her high school graduation|
One granddaughter leaves and another one moves in. She has already made the guest room her own with a block of arranged pictures above her desk, her books in the bookcase, and round lantern lights surrounding the sliding glass doors. I am fond of those lights and may have to turn copycat.
Moving to Salt Lake from Pittsburgh is "surreal," she says. She was born in Salt Lake, but the family left for NYC when she was eight, then to New Jersey, and finally to Pittsburgh. Now she's back and seeing ghosts from a previous life everywhere, and renewing her longtime friendship with Anne.
I love having her here, watching her acclimatize, missing her family, writing. She is a writer of fiction and poetry. I love all these writers bursting like peonies in our family. I love that her father, my son, bought her a Writers' Market.
Words. In the beginning was the word. Word.