They've Accepted Us

It’s a little mad, I know, but I am sitting out of doors in sunlight writing with a pen on a genuine Staples clipboard even though the temperature is grimly stuck on 39. Time for a face-off. Strengthened by having done my Turbotaxonomy (link), and both Fed and State having “accepted us,” it’s high time to stare down a stubbornly clinging winter and do what in clement season I do every morning in sunshine, later in the shade, and, between thoughts, idly watch tiny ants and very high-tech bees visiting our flowering plants. No flowers yet. But we saw a single bee two days ago trying to learn to fly. And the ants have been exploring. Birds? They are a little slow, a little tentative, but they are here.

Now for that title of mine. Ages ago, our girls still quite young, we arrived one evening at an extremely crowded motel very close to the Atlantic shore in Delaware. It was a big holiday. We’d tried two motels already; both had been full. We wanted to be close enough to walk to the beach before dawn to watch the sunrise. I parked the car and said to Brigitte: “I’ll go and check. I hope they’ll accept us this time.” The girls got out to go with me while Brigitte stayed behind to listen to the radio. Daunting. There were lines before three clerks. We waited our turn. At last. Yes! They still had room. I filled out the form, credit card, ball of wax. We headed out. People stood about. Our girls at once set off on a run toward Brigitte shouting at the top of their lungs: “They’ve accepted us! They’ve accepted us!”

We had a good laugh. That’s how family slogans are born—used many times since on fitting occasions, always with laughter. So I am out here in the cold trying to signal to Spring: “We’ve accepted you! Come right in. Plenty of room. Don’t be so shy!”