THE WIND PHONE
My Mother and Granddaughter Were Two Ships Passing in the Night
A first birthday party almost missed a most cherished guest
Sarah’s first birthday
For my daughter Sarah’s first birthday party, the gifts were piled on the picnic table in the backyard. They were beautifully wrapped in shiny pastels and prints, with fancy ribbons and bows.
There was one exception. A long, thin package was wrapped like a fish in several sheets of The Washington Post. Winding around it was a homemade braid of colored yarns with tiny bells attached to the ends.
I didn’t need to look at the card. It was my mother’s. When the other presents had been opened, I reached over to grab it, but my mother stopped me.
“This is from me,” my mother announced proudly.
“What interesting wrapping paper,” commented a friend.
“Oh, I don’t believe in wrapping paper,” my mother said as if she was declaring some deeply held value system.
She helped baby Sarah tear open the yarn and paper to reveal two long paintbrushes.
The brushes were full and soft and had hints of paint on them. Sarah immediately tried to stuff them into her mouth. I glared at my…