“She’s my little Bunky and I love her very much.”

May, 2018

Summer 1998?  It isn’t 1999 because I would be pregnant with Oliver.  The joy on Grace’s face seems to indicate her daddy is taking our picture.  Her right hand poised in motion to reach out to him.  We both couldn’t be happier.   Her song plays in my head…

“When you have a little Bunky, you just can’t help it.  You love her so much…”

Bunky:  her dad christened her with that nickname as a baby.  Then came the words to her “song” belted like a show tune. To this day, he calls her Bunk.  To this day, I hum her song.  Witnessing joy radiate from my daughter’s face brings me such inner peace and happiness.  It’s hard to believe she will be 21 years old this year.

“A Bunky, a Bunky, she’s the very best.  A Bunky, a Bunky, better than the rest…” 

By our clothing, you know it is summer. Grace is sleeveless.  I hope she is slathered in sunscreen! Her hair is the lightest color I remember with her bangs freshly trimmed. My handiwork, I bet. Her hair certainly wasn’t so fine and straight for long.  She has been blessed with a mane that is the envy of many:  thick, curly, and plentiful.  I still find hair bands in my home in the most unlikely places.  I can’t bear to discard them, no matter how ratty.   I gather them up and tuck them in a drawer and wait for her visit home from Portland.

I do remember my yellow ensemble. All have long since gone to Goodwill after the birth of Oliver.  I see my gold watch and bangle bracelet from my mom on my wrist.   Both still nestled in my jewelry drawer.  I can’t seem to place those sunglasses on my lap.  Tortoiseshell.  I have a habit of removing my sunglasses for photos; and asking others to do the same.  I think you see so much of a person through their eyes. 

The two children upfront are wearing short overalls.  I had a pair myself.  As did Grace, hers were blue jeans with flowers.  I believe she wore them on her first or second birthday.  I need to find that happy pic with her wearing them, a tiny bow on her head, feet dancing around balloons drawn on the driveway in sidewalk chalk.

“I love her so much. I love her so much. I love her so much!”

I think we are in Arizona visiting my mom. But, only because I found this photo nestled in others that featured cactuses and the pool she had in her Fountain Hills home.  But, where exactly are we in this photo?  Obviously, watching some sort of sporting event from the bleachers.  Attendance is small.  The man on the field is not in uniform. But, whom are we watching?  Does it really matter?  We are utterly, blissfully happy.

“She’s my little Bunky and I love her very much.”