in rememberance

Going over Ruby's notes on her religion studies for her exams, I asked where Jesus prayed before being sentenced to death. Jokingly, she said, "Olive Garden," instead of the 'Garden of Olives'.
We both knew better, but laughed appropriately.

When it comes to Holy Thursday, Ruby understands that the body and blood mean something other than they are, just not sure exactly...

God's Last Name

At Bridge and Pratt, this sultry afternoon, I asked my Taxi driver to bring me to Bridge and Pratt. Obviously, I meant something different. I happened to be looking at the "Bridge and Pratt Cafe" sign upon entering the cab, so it was on my mind.

In any case, the driver laughed and told me, "Officially, that is not a place."

I let it go.

While riding to my actual destination, "Cottman and Frankford," I thought of when Ruby asked me why God doesn't have a last name. I said, because he is a Trinity, spoken of in three names, or the beginning and the end, everything as one.

She responded that was fine.

At mass, she always has many questions. I asked her to wait and pay attention to what is happening. She inquired, "How can I pay attention when nothing is going on?"

diplomatics in the living room

Over fajitas at the coffee table, sitting on the sofa, I asked Ruby if she was going to be a well-behaved teenager. She responded, "I don't know. That's in the future."

Playing one of Ruby's DS games, I realized my turn ended rather abruptly; I asked her why it was over so soon. She said if you're bad at it, the quicker it ends.

depressions in the sidewalks

On our way to the playground off of 7th and South Streets, Ruby concluded the puddles on the cobble-stoned pavement were made by melted ice. I said the depressions in the sidewalks gave them their shape. She asked, "Do you mean the sidewalks are sad?" I said, "No, but the pockets in them allow puddles to be formed." She responded that they are depressed "because of winter, probably, or that they can't play."

sentimental schoolyard

At some point, when leaving Ruby to enter school, she gets out of the car and walks by herself across the parking lot (the schoolyard) to go to class. All of a sudden, in my eyes, I am not with her; she seems alone, bringing herself to the door, without me.

I know it's sentimental to think of her, her hand in mind, all the way to the building in our own, joyous stride. But now she is being independent, more than ever, right now, to me.

When she says (so I still feel like she needs me, I hope) "will you come with me?," I must and always say "yes."

it's a good day to

A few days ago, Jim Carroll died. We heard it on the morning radio as we were going to school (2nd grade). Ruby anxiously wondered, "Who was Jim Carroll?". I said he was an author, a singer and songwriter. She asked how old he was when he died. I answered, "60". She replied, "Well, that makes sense."

getting taller

On our way home from getting water-ice ( wildberry for me, chocolate for her) I asked Ruby to stand next to me to see how she is growing up. The top of her head came to the bottom of my chest. She remarked, "Wow, I'm up to your privates."