Yesterday, crack of dawn, ice on the windshield, steroid-peppy, I drove to Scenic Loop in Helotes to spend the day--the town on the outskirts of San Antonio where Will and his family live in a small rock house at the top of a long hill.
Ironically, it's about two miles from the house where my own children grew up (in a rock house, then later a stucco one, both at the end of long bumpy driveways, both also off Scenic Loop)--so the drive always takes me back in time to the years we lived there, years that add up to more years than I've lived anywhere else. I go there about once a week to keep Elena (and Nathan sometimes after school) and stay for supper. It's a trip, a journey.
First, there's the seeing off of two fishermen for the day--Will and his father, my ex.
Then, there's a morning of reading to and playing with Elena, and soaking up her pure exuberance of living. She's a bilingual baby, and if I ask her, "How do you say milk, or monkey, or bread or just about anything in Spanish?" she can tell me the word. "How do you say Daddy in Spanish?" I asked. She thought a bit and said, "Will!"
Whatever I make for her, she says, "Yummy! I taste it!" Everything is still present-tense with Elena.
After lunch, we gave two pork chop bones to the dogs, one to the large Golden Lab, Abby, one to the tiny feisty rat terrier, Skippy--as in SkippyJonJones. With some fierce growling and fast moves, little Skippy wound up with both bones! Abby stood back looking piteous, Abby who could, as Will said later, eat Skippy in one bite if she had a mind to, which she doesn't.
Deja Vu really kicked in after nap when we drove to Helotes Elementary School to pick up Nathan from first grade. Both car seats, a diaper and drink bag, it takes a lot more work to get children from here to there than it used to, but we managed to get there in plenty of time to watch the first graders file out.
How many times have I waited in that exact spot to pick up Day and Will when they were little? The school is larger, the playground fancier, but the friendly mood of the school is the same. When Nathan came up to us, he was beaming. He'd had a blue day for four days in a row--meaning he'd been good all day long.
So we went to Orange Leaf and the bookstore to celebrate. Bought him a Lego set for one of his early birthday presents. Watched him dance in the yogurt shop to entertain some little girls at the next table. Cleaned up chocolate faces. Had a power struggle with Elena who insisted she was going to sit in the front seat, not the car seat--until Nathan bribed her with a Cheeto and I put on my serious face. Listened to her assert her authority as Nathan was trying to tell me a story in the car: "I talking to Yenna, Nathan! Stop talking!"
He had walked up to the school counselor on the way to the car. "Hey, Mr. Vasquez, when are you going to have one of those groups again?"
"Would you like to have another group, Buddy?" asked Mr. V.
On the way to the car, he told me, Mr. V. was the teacher who was like having your mommy and daddy at school. If mean kids tried to bully you, Mr. V would take care of it and teach the bullies how to be nice. "It's like sometimes I might want to take care of my little sister and I'm not strong enough and I have to ask Will to help me," he said.
We ended the day with delicious chicken tacos around the table: Will and Veronica, Nathan and Elena, and my Ex and me.
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