My week with my niecelettes has gone by much too quickly. Although I feel like I have just arrived, there is also a piece of me that is ready to go home. I just wish I didn’t live to far away from them so I could see them more often.
A friend of mine recently said that her one-year-old daughter is now a real person. I remember saying the same thing about my niecelettes. But now that they are about to turn six, I am amazed at who they are becoming. During my time here I have had the opportunity to have actual conversations with both girls. While my niecelettes still don’t have the words or constructs to tell me everything about their lives, I can see what they can’t say by watching them play. They both use their play time as a way to process their life experiences. Everything from working out conflicts with friends to solidifying the lessons they learn in their classrooms. My favorite example was listening them sing songs and prayers the way they hear them. When my brother or I try to correct them, they very clearly and firmly tell us that we are the ones who have the words wrong.
On one of my first days here, A asked whether I was here to see them or my father. The answer, obviously, is both. But what she was really asking was who is more important to me. I didn’t really know how to answer that question. How can I explain to a child that I adore with my whole being that right now she is not the primary reason I came east? That my time with my father is slipping away and every moment I spend with him is precious? I did my best in trying to explain that Zeyde (grandfather in Yiddish) is sick and it is important that I see him to make him feel better. She seem satisfied with that answer and let the issue drop.
I am not the only one who feels the pressure of time. Yesterday, when I went to see my father (who had remembered that I had told him the night before that I would be coming to see him in the morning, which buoyed my spirits) he told me he had been wondering if this would be our last visit together. I told him that his health was not that precarious and I would be back to see him in about 2 months. He clarified that he wasn’t worried about dying before my next visit. He was more worried about not recognizing me. I reminded him that his most recent cognitive test (which I had been there for) showed a slight improvement in his cognitive abilities. But neither of us were satisfied with my response. We are both acutely aware of the ticking clock. We both know that when it is time for me to go, we may be saying our final goodbyes.