Pelican Gardens

Pardon the sun. All the same, the whitewash in the back captures the bright Florida sun.

3 years ago Crispin was learning to walk when he visited Pelican Gardens--giggling, chatting, falling, standing, laughing. Now he is older and more aware--and a bit more intimidated by all the attention from Great Grandpop's neighbors; he was eager to get to the courtyard.

In my last post, I wrote of how familiar Sebastian and its haunts have become--and these familiarities become ways to measure how life evolves for the boys and me. Crispin and Liam definitely grow older (I write this neither in celebration nor in anguish). When we dined with Grandpop at Pelican Gardens today, after Liam had consumed a great deal of cauliflower, and after Crispin had consumed a small amount of pretzels we had brought along (he still seems to be recovering), and after both boys surprised Grandpop by refusing dessert, I gave them the option to go out to the courtyard and play and wait for us--which they gladly took. Grandpop and I could talk of history, WW2, Campbell's stew, how young Germany is, and the boys were really happy outside. While I wouldn't quite send Crispin off by himself, Liam has proved to be quite trustworthy of late, and Crispin stays with him. In Angela's Ashes, Frank McCourt describes how his impoverished and depressed mother sent him at age 3 to watch over his 2 year old brother--and a year or so later to watch over both brother Malachi and their infant twins--for hours at a time at a park in Brooklyn. Times have certainly changed (and a life in poverty in Brooklyn is not necessarily a good baseline to start with), but Liam's steadfastness does seem to merit at least consideration of what privacies and responsibilities he is entitled to.