Kalib at daycare - he seems kind of sad; scenes from the car - life as viewed through the rearview mirrors; the young mother who used to serve us coffee and her sleepy, handsome, new, baby boy

Yesterday, I dropped Margie off at the Alaska Native Medical Center for X-rays and followup orthopedic treatment, then journied elsewhere to take care of some business, returned for Margie, went and got Lavina and then the three of us ventured over to the daycare center where Kalib now spends his days.

It was sad for me, because he looked so sad. Given the nature of Margie's injuries, his parents had no choice but to enroll him in daycare. And he is learning new things and meeting new toddlers, but he is missing the love that his grandmother drenched him with everyday, after his parents went to work.

I kind of miss seeing him around the house, too, getting into cupboards, banging pans together, pouncing on Royce.

This shot is also through the door, as we had to try to keep out of his sight. If he saw us - particularly his mother or grandmother - he would likely cry, and beg to come home with us. In the morning, when dropped off, he tends to cling to his father's leg, and to cry; he struggles to resist the imminent separation.

His mother soemtimes comes by and when he spots her, he immediately starts to cry. In the evening, he is overjoyed when his parent's pick him up.

He is separated from his peers here because he is on a different diet than they, and so is placed at a different table.

Earlier in the day, after we drove to Anchorage and found ourselves stopped at a light on the way to ANMC. As you can see, the scene behind us was quite intimidating - yet, I felt no fear.

Boniface Road, Anchorage.

After I dropped Margie off, I found myself parked at another red light, with a red car behind me, to the right.

This guy jaywalked. The evidence is right here.

These big wheels aren't even rolling, but they soon will be. I am not stopped at a light this time. I am stopped because there is an accident ahead of us. Margie and Lisa are in the car with me and we are drinking coffee, purchased at a kiosk. We are taking Lisa back to work. Her break was short.

We pass slowly by the accident. I see no signs of injury, but it's possible.

Back in Wasilla, headed down Gail Street, on the way home.

In the evening, I drove to Carr's to buy a chicken, salad, rice, oatmeal, berries and such so that Margie and I could continue to eat. It was there that I met this baby for the first time. 

I first heard about this baby early in January, when a bunch of us went to IHOP for Sunday breakfast. There, the young woman pictured above asked me if I noticed anything different about her. Her name is Melanie, and she works at IHOP now, but we first got to know her well before, when she was a coffee barista at the kiosk across the street from the Post Office, the one that looks like a red caboose.

Melanie was always friendly and vivacious, and it only took a couple of visits before she figured out what Margie and I wanted every day. She knew how to make coffee, too - her brew was always good. That's not the case with all baristas.

I tipped her accordingly. 

Of course, I tip the ones who serve bad coffee equally well.

Then one day Melanie left to go work at Prudhoe Bay and we did not see her again until late last year, when we went into IHOP one Sunday and discovered that she was working there and that she was expecting.

And that is what was different about her in January - she was no longer expecting. She had her baby, and this is she and he. She told me his name. I guess I had better start writing these things down, because I have forgotten it. 

It didn't use to be that way, but it is now.

She gave me her phone number and I just called her to get the name and to let her know this post was going up, but I did not reach her.

I will try again later, and afterward I will put in the name.

At least, this is my intent.

February 22, 11:26 am: Donovan. His name is Donovan.