Comfort and Mirth

10. Dichotomy

>10. Dichotomy November 2, 1911 Dear Mother, How shall I describe your grandson to you? He has lots of dark hair and the face of a cherub.He even has his own intoxicating smell, different from any other in the world. His miniature hands and feet are all wrinkled and pink, and his new red baby face is smoothing out into a wonderful ruddy–tawny Celtic glow. (I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else in the world, but he looks so much more like Brooks than me.) His eyes are dark blue, but the doctor told me they could still change. His sleeping pattern is finally simmering down to a fairly predictable schedule, though he still wakes at least once during the night, and usually twice.We’ve named him Andrew Michael. At first, I wanted to name him after Brooks, but Brooks said it had been so frustrating for him, having such an unusual name—people always dropping the “s” or reading it as his last name; he said he had no intention of putting his son through it. I understand his point of view, so when he suggested Andrew because he liked the way it sounded with Abernathy, I agreed. Our son will carry this name forever . I find this somewhat overwhelming—assigning someone a name for life is a daunting responsibility, but I’m glad I had Brooks to help me through it. I have a lot of new forevers—I will be a mother forever. No matter how old Andrew grows, I’ll always worry about his welfare and strive for his happiness. But in another way, it’s like 64 he’s always been with me. I can’t understand how I lived twenty-one long years without knowing I was supposed to be missing him. Brooks had the week off when Andrew came.It was good to have him here, and he was helpful in his way. He’s back teaching again, of course, and stays later than ever. He’s well into writing his next book and says he can’t concentrate at home with Andrew crying so much. I explained to him it’s no small task to try and maintain such a large house and fix him three meals a day at his odd hours while breastfeeding this child around the clock, and washing and hanging diapers all day. He thought for a few minutes, went into the hall, picked up the telephone, and had those poor operators ringing around town in all directions. He discovered Hyde Park Grocery will deliver for a handsome percentage, and he deemed it well worth it under the circumstances. He told me if I ever find myself without a slab of bacon, or a good thick Porterhouse I felt I needed for his Sunday breakfast or weekday supper, all I have to do is walk to the phone, have the operator ring the store, and tell them what I want and when I want it. He also hired a maid. Coral is a Negro. She and her husband live in Wheatville, where he tends a bar every day of the week. He brought her over in his carriage lastWednesday morning. She cleaned the whole house and asked if I needed her to fix supper. I told her I had dinner planned and underway, but she helped me skin the potatoes , dice the onions, and dredge the beef.While I was adding the potato water to the meat sizzling in the pan, Andrew woke up in his bassinet and started his ritual screaming. Her eyes lit up and she said, “Oh, Miss Camille, I do so love babies, may I?” Honestly Mother, I didn’t know how he would react to her, but I also didn’t know how to tell her no, so I nodded and she went over and said, “Now, now, sweet baby.” He stopped crying, and when she picked him up, his eyes looked just like those big black coat buttons with the cross-hatching you kept in your tin. I had the hardest time keeping 65 Dichotomy myself from laughing out loud. But while I got the meat to a steady simmer, she rocked him in her arms and sang, “Skeeters are a ‘hangin’on a honeysuckle vine,”in the most beautiful,deep woman’s voice I’ve ever heard.Andrew snuggled right up to her and completely...