Hey, my little plover,
You’re doing your own “happy dance” already down the hall.
You go! John will have to take water breaks keeping up with you!
I’m pretty sure you’re one of your beloved daylilies right
now. Someone else who made it, Peter Congleton sent me the nicest
email. Do you remember him at Groton? He was in a coma and moved through MGH and
Spaulding, just like you. He said he could feel the presence of people (and
prayer) and that letters and pictures and people can help you “swim to the
surface.” We’re SO there. Siblings and cousins and friends and strangers are praying
and cheering and watching in wonder. You, miracle.
When I was at IMS, like you and Emily, maybe 9th
grade, our cousin, John Buckley-Heath and I went on what you might call a
“toot.” We found a field of daffodils (no kidding, Wordsworth) and stopped to
have my senior picture taken there. The man who owned the field seemed a lot
like Boo Radley, reclusive, but eventually he came out. He told us about bulbs,
how you plant them, how they grow. He raved about daylilies, how hardy they
are. Out of the blue, he grabbed a hammer from behind him and pounded a daylily
bulb and said it would grow. He had left some bulbs out all winter the year before and
said they had grown. When we finished taking pictures, he was nowhere to be seen, but there were bulbs on our
car, an offering. I believe his daylily bulbs grew. You are that type of beauty.
And in case you forgot what liberals look like, I’ve included my picture:
Keep growing. We’re so there.
-Kate
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