Brotherly love

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In my family, there's not much of a tradition of close, loving, secret-sharing relationships between the female siblings. I read in books, see in movies, even observe in some of my friends and their sisters the ideal sisterly state. In the real world, though, in my real world that's flush with far more females than males, it just hasn't been. Not for those sisters who came before me nor for those who've come after.

My mom and her two sisters clearly love one another, but I'd venture to say calling each other best friends would be pushing it. My sisters and I? Well, we did—and do—love one another, but in a group of five females, you can imagine the competitions, the cat fights. Or maybe you can't, if you're one of the fortunate ones who indeed calls your sister your best friend.

Even my own daughters—whom I have no doubt whatsoever love and cherish one other dearly—aren't now and never have been a tight-knit trio. Nor is there even an exclusive duo among the three, leaving a third wheel to roll on her own. (Which, truth be told, I accept, for having one child continually left out and heartbroken would be an even more difficult situation than the overall arms length at which they all seem to keep one another.)

It saddens me that somehow, somewhere, the sisters-as-best-friends gene seems to have skipped generation after generation after generation in my family. I envy those sisters for whom the sappy adages cross-stitched on pillows and emblazoned across coffee mugs ring true. I wanted that. I wanted that for my daughters.

When it comes to my grandsons, though, they do have that. And what a heartwarming delight it is to see. Bubby and Mac are unabashedly best buds, best friends who love and cherish, adore and idolize one another. Countless times during their visit I witnessed one reaching out to the other just to cuddle or kiss, share a toy or a moment. Sometimes I'd see one little hand pat a shoulder, an arm, a cheek as if they simply needed assurance their best buddy was still there.

Just as many times, I watched one hop on the other as though a bell audible to only them had been rung, signaling the start of a wrestling match. They'd giggle and roll and squeal in delight. Then just as quickly, the match would be over and they'd move on to another activity, together or solo, secure in knowing their brother, their best friend, was nearby if the urge to wrestle and wrangle struck once again.

 

Of course Bubby and Mac argue, compete for attention, clamor for the very same toys and don't hold back physically or vocally in challenging one another for what they feel is rightfully theirs. But once the victor is declared—by virtue of who's most determined to get their way or by virtue of Mommy or another adult breaking up the bickering—they're right back to lovin' on one another. No grudges, no resentment.

I'm not sure how it happened. I don't know whether Megan subconsciously—or consciously—did something absolutely perfectly right in creating the connection between the boys, instilled something that eluded me when raising my girls, or if it's just luck of the draw and she came up with the winning and perfectly matched pair.

Whatever the reason, whatever the cause, I'd say that Bubby and Mac are the true winners. I hope their winning streak continues. They'll always be brothers, of course. I'm crossing my fingers and saying my prayers that they'll always—and in all ways—be best friends, as well.

Today's question:

Which of your siblings did you consider your best friend as children?

Black feet, black bears, and getting back to normal

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Last week was a week I will never forget. A week so surreal, a week so not my normal.

My normal is as quiet as I want it to be, with time to do what I want, what I need, with all of that time punctuated with varying degrees of missing my grandsons.

Not last week, though. Last week my grandsons were at my house, and I was their primary caretaker. The house was blissfully loud—interspersed with occasional loud moments not so blissful, too, I must admit. I had little time to do what I needed for myself, but also no time to miss my grandsons, for they were by my side while their mom and dad attended a conference nearby. Time with Bubby and Mac was the very best part of my not-normal week.

My normal is relatively mild in terms of temperatures. Not so last week. Triple-digit heat, record heat, historically high heat literally never before felt in Colorado Springs marked the temperature gauge in unprecedented fashion. Day after day after day. It’s just heat, some might say. Stay in the house and turn on the air. It's no big deal. In a house—in my house—that has no air conditioning, though, it is a big deal. It’s hot. It’s hell. A hell I didn't want to deal with myself, much less impose upon my grandsons.

And then, well, then there was the Waldo Canyon Fire. The horrific part of the week. The heartbreaking part. The surreal part.

Tuesday evening rush hour, driving with my grandsonsSurreal in that on the west side of my city, hillsides, landmarks, homes were burning. People—families—were evacuated from their homes. Smoke and ash filled the sky, reaching as far as the city’s east side, my side.

Surreal in that every local television station went to 24/7 coverage of the disaster, the devastation. While my grandsons played nearby, I tried to watch. When they slept at night, Jim and I did watch, far into the night, especially on the most horrific day, on Tuesday.

Surreal in that I continually, obsessively checked Facebook, Twitter, email for news on friends and family, their safety and their homes. That I regularly received reports and texts from Megan and Preston as they tried—yet often failed—to enjoy their mountaintop conference and festivities while homes and Megan’s hometown burned within clear and heartbreaking view.

Surreal in that our health department warned residents to stay indoors, with windows shut and air-conditioning on, so as to not breathe in the ash and the soot. Having no air conditioning, we opted for taking the boys to various indoor play areas. We did our best each day to have a good time with them while the west side of our city burned. At night we wrestled with choosing between opening windows to let in cooler air to lower the hellish temps in the boys’ upstairs rooms or keeping the windows closed to avoid the soot and ash we were warned to keep out of our homes, our respiratory systems. Especially respiratory systems with itsy bitsy lungs the likes of Baby Mac’s…or even Bubby’s.

Wednesday afternoon, heading to an indoor play placeSurreal in that access to my mom, my sister, attractions we’d planned to visit with the boys was shut down, impassable for the entire week, as fire raged and firefighters needed to protect the highway, use the highway. That shelters, like refugee camps, were set up around the city for evacuees. That the state governor, the United States president visited to view my city’s disaster and devastation firsthand, to offer support.

We watched each day and each night—as often as we could while still attending to and enjoying our grandsons—as not only local news but national broadcasts revealed burned areas that looked like war zones, yet were neighborhoods I had visited, places friends lived. We and the rest of the city anxiously watched news conferences at 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. each day for updates on the status of the fire and evacuees, the successes of the firefighters.

All this while I and every other resident not in the line of the fire worried about, prayed about, cried about those who were.

All this while my grandsons visited and the hellish hot temperatures continued.

Even after the initial shock and awe of the fire and its horrific trail and toll, strange things, things so very not normal, continued. Expected things like subconsciously searching the sky for new plumes of smoke and endlessly tossing about with others the figures related to homes burned, evacuees remaining, fire containment percentages.

Bubby's soot-covered feetUnexpected things, too. Such as realizing that going barefoot around my house—which my grandsons and I usually do—resulted in black soles thanks to the soot and the ash coating my home despite the miles between the fire and us. Black soles that required me to scrub my grandsons’ little piggies at bath time and scrub my own big piggies before bedtime to remove the grime. And the unexpected sound of packs of coyotes howling as they roamed my neighborhood, of having a black bear amble down my street. The coyotes and the bear, along with elk spotted in the center of town and countless other wild and displaced animals searched for a home that, like the 350 homes of local human residents, burned, is gone.

So strange. So sad.

This week I’m still sad about the displaced animals, the displaced people, the burned homes and trails and landmarks. Yet, this week, I feel a little closer to normal. The air and sky are clear of smoke, the ash and soot have been cleaned from my house. My grandsons have gone home, television coverage of the fires has been reduced to a crawl at the bottom of the screen. The pass to my mom has re-opened. The fire moves ever closer to containment.

I do still scan the sky for new smoke and for rain that would lower the still-hot temps and dampen the still-burning fire. And I make sure to watch the evening news and check #WaldoCanyonFire on Twitter throughout the day. I also continue to be on the lookout for lost and frightened animals in my neighborhood. Overall, though, it’s been relatively easy for me to get back to normal.

I’m fortunate, blessed, and thankful. For many others in my city, getting back to normal hasn’t been so easy. My heart, my thoughts, my prayers go out to them—to those who are still reeling, who must build new homes and new lives, who have yet to create a new normal.

Today's question:

The Waldo Canyon Fire evacuees had mere hours, sometimes less, to gather personal belongings from their homes. What would you grab first—other than people and pets—in the event of evacuation?

GRAND Social — Grandparent linky — July 2

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Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends. We're so glad you could attend. Come inside! Come inside! — Karn Evil 9 by Emerson, Lake & Palmer

Welcome back my friends to the GRAND Social linky just for grandparents. Time again to link up as well as read up on the posts of fellow grandparents around the web. My grandsons have headed home, and I'm looking forward to catching up on posts I surely missed from my favorite fellow grandparent bloggers. I hope you'll join me.

How it works:

  • All grandparent bloggers are invited to add a link. You don't have to blog specifically about grandparenting, but you must be a grandparent who blogs.
  • Posts shared can be an old one or a recent one, your choice. I like to link up to older posts that current readers likely haven't seen.
  • To link up, copy the direct link to the specific post you want to share, not the link to your blog's home page. Then click the blue "Click here to enter" text below and follow the directions to add your post to the list.
  • You can add up to three posts, but no duplicates, please, and none you have promoted on a previous GRAND Social linky.
  • No contests, giveaways, or Etsy sites.
  • Adding a mention at the bottom of your linked posts, such as This post has been linked to the GRAND Social blogging event, is appreciated. Or, you can post the GRAND Social button using the following code:

Grandma’sBriefs.com

<a href="/" target="_blank"><img src="http://grandmasbriefs.squarespace.com/storage/GRANDsocialbutton.jpg " alt="Grandma’sBriefs.com" width="125" height="125" /></a>

 

  • The GRAND Social linky is open for new posts through Wednesday evening, so please come back to see those added after your first visit.
  • If you're not a blogger, you have the pleasure of being a reader. All bloggers who link up would be honored to have you click, visit, read and comment.

READERS and PARTICIPATING BLOGGERS: Please visit the posts others have linked to by clicking on the thumbnail photos. Comments are always appreciated by the bloggers whose links you visit, even if it's simply "Hey, stopping by from GRAND Social."

Thank you for participating in the GRAND Social grandparent linky!