It's funny how, long ago when Tim and I lived near Portland, and our next door neighbors were pregnant (before Tim and I were even trying), we all kidded Tim that he needed to invent and build a picture/viewer/something that would let us peer into my friend Darlene's womb and see her little tyke. We were so eager to meet this one developing.
Today, I have an ultrasound photo on my desktop. Though Tim was too busy elsewhere, somebody worked on our project, and now the family has a view inside my daughter's womb of her little one, so near to each of us and yet still a world away.
I don't feel quite right sharing this picture on my blog, and maybe that's because of the otherworldliness I can't help feeling. My grandchild will be posted, without doubt, as soon as he or she enters our realm, and that will seem fine and proper. (And of course I know the picture can be accessed online easily now, thanks to social media. But I'm not the media, obviously, nor am I extremely social.)
In any case, I'm grateful for the streams of life flowing along. I'm happy with my Grandma Preview.
In lieu of baby, here's Westley. He's not aware he will soon become an uncle cat. I wonder how he will react; for now, he is not a being who can grasp the fact of other realms, of processes going on in secret. Yet Westley takes them in stride and participates. Like a tree, like a bird, like a river. Westley doesn't transcend anything, and yet he offers himself fully, dear little critter that he is.
There's no sense asking, What will Westley become? Yet with the person whose visage I can enjoy now on my desktop, there are queries as long as a child's wait for supper. There are wonderings broader than clouds in a feathered sky.