Return to Edinburgh

I am very happy. I met my great-niece for the first time on Saturday. At ten months, she is standing up, and walking round furniture or when supported by two hands- sometimes by just one hand. She stood on my knee, and I told her how strong she was, and how wonderful that was. S tells me that “great-aunt” sounds much older than “grandmother”, but I am not convinced.

That is the first time I have seen the family since 2013. I suppose I am closer to them than at any time since then. I am unused to blogging like this, I am being especially politic: I restrict what I write to my reactions and feelings, but today not even all those; yet I can share the positive ones. I am happy. I may go back, even later this year, to scatter my father’s ashes, where we scattered my mother’s. The child’s parents are getting married. I hardly spoke to him, but he seems a decent bloke, attentive to his daughter.

Peter invited me, on the occasion of his thirtieth birthday.

-You’re not old enough to have a nephew aged 30, people tell me.
-I have an older sister who married young.
“I had him when I was fifteen,” joked S.

He has moved in with Amy, and they are getting married. He is happy with his job, and believes it has prospects, which pleases me. He picks things up. His MS has got no worse since he was put on a clinical trial, and he hopes the drug will be licensed. I worry for them, more than for my great-niece’s parents, and suppose they will face the difficulties couples face, and surpass them or not. She told me several things, some of which a parent might not want to hear, which I think are alright, actually. She is older than he is, and I like older women so I think that is fine and some people don’t.

It is never perfect. It is good enough.

I like her. I like her insecurities, they show sensitivity. And she arranged a good drink. I stayed with Fran, then walked along the Union canal to the restaurant, then to a pub, then another pub, then a third pub where Amy had arranged a downstairs room which she got for free if the people spent £300 on the bar. They did. The birthday cake was chocolate in the shape of a Wookie. Then I walked home along the canal, just before midnight, lit by tiny lights each side of the path, which was uncomfortable but safe enough.

Enough, enough, enough…

I went to Fran’s house, and was introduced to her daughter’s guinea-pig. It had beautiful long soft fur, but when I said yes I would like to cuddle it, and its cage was opened, it scuttled off into its box. I felt it is entitled to its autonomy so did not insist, but back in the living room picked up a teddy bear and stroked that.

I don’t like being human. I want to be a disembodied intellect.
-I know, said Tina.

Or, I want to be a fulfilled human. This need for closeness is such a pain when I cannot satiate it!

5 thoughts on “Return to Edinburgh

  1. I am Great-Aunt Connie to twelve, and “Grams” to five. My grandchildren range in age from three months to nineteen years. I have held all of them when they were babies, but most of them became aware of who I was when I was playing Great-Uncle or Grandpa. I don’t see the nieces and nephews often enough that they’d remember me at all, let alone my gender. Only my three-month-old granddaughter will ever know me as anyone other than who I am now. What a blessing it will be for both of us, as she grows up without the adjustments her brother and cousins had to make when Grandpa became Grams. Total satiation!

    You look very content in the pic, by the way.


    • I was very content. It was lovely. And far better sitting down, when she could stand, than sitting on my arm, where she could only turn round. Congratulations on the large family. That’s lovely. Er, satiation? “Ever” know rather than “not” know?


      • Satiation is a word. I suppose I could have written “Totally satiated,” but I was thinking that we were satiating each other, and satiation describes the overall fullness in our relationship. My youngest granddaughter is the only one of my grandchildren who will ever know me as I am and without ever having known me as Grandpa. I’m doing my income taxes, and my sentence structure and vocabulary are heavily influenced by my exposure to tax-speak – where not much is clear at all. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

          • OK, I’ll change that to “insatiable.” But, that goes for each grandchild, individually. I’m speaking of babies, though, because it all fades by the time puberty hits them. I was thrilled the other day when my nineteen-year-old grandson gave me a big hug, instead of the handshake he had been greeting me with for the past few years. I’m looking forward to the next hug from him, and many more to come, I hope.

            Liked by 1 person

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