Couldn't Have Scripted This One

Today started with a funeral and ended with a birth.

Ep and I spent the morning at the funeral of Iz's and Merlin's former preschool teacher. G was a kind, sweet woman who was obviously meant to work with children. The really brutal part, aside from the suddenness of her passing, was that she and her husband had adopted their only daughter less than two years ago.

Neither Ep nor I could get ourselves to approach the open casket. What we saw of the Buddhist ceremony was lovely and touching--but we couldn't stay because Mali was too busy blasting all my fears into outer space by being the most extremely social and vocal baby one might ever wish for--if one wasn't in service at a memorial chapel.

I spent the rest of day in a bit of a funk, fuming at The Fates. Then Seymour bounded up the stairs with the following news:

Godmother Stacy had two healthy girls earlier this evening, approximately 90 minutes apart. I do not have additional details because Seymour, not I, was the one who took the phone call and he doesn't quite have the hang of pumping people for birth details. But healthy, happy, two girls. Who will be gifted all of Mali's lovingly stored wee girly infant clothes.

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