N. turned one this month. I will always be 40 years older than she. Makes it easy to remember how old I am, and hopefully the math will come easy to her since all she'll have to do is add 40 to however old she is. This year, one plus 40. Despite my own desire to keep the festivities small and underwhelming, we threw her a big ol' one-year-young soiree with a whimsical garden theme. While planning the celebration went against every grain in my body and I stressed about every detail, in the end, Grandma was happy. And that's what matters most. 


Even though N. missed her afternoon nap and was exhausted from entertaining her 65 guests so much so that she vomitted when we arrived home and struggled to put her down that night. Even though the family pressure to have a grand party was so great that once it was finally over, my body physically collapsed, and I had to nurse a flare up of sinusitis for over a week.  

Worth it? Not so sure, but thankful it's done. 

Until N. and I went for a morning swing today. Afterwards, we strolled around the lake. I stopped and noticed the most unusual and beautiful butterfly I'd ever seen -- a black beauty, apparently a pipevine swallowtail. N. and I crept upon it as it softly sat on a bush flitting from flower to flower. 

"Kulibangbang. Mariposa. Butterfly," I said to N. A real one. Not just what she sees among her books and teethers.

An older couple stopped to see what awed us. We shared the moment - in the company of Spirit. Deep within, I thought, it just might be a visit from Lolo (my dad). Five years since he died. 

And we now have a toddler. A year goes by so fast. 

This morning's reminder? Pause meaningfully, and make every moment count. Sublimity.