I haven’t written exclusively about Robinia in a while, which is insane because she’s the best. I’ve come to no profound realization, no new idea, no fresh peak of affection or wonder. While every day she grows and finds herself more capable the climb itself becomes very normal. Yesterday we basically played catch, sort of, mostly.

I love Abby immensely and have for over a decade now. I spend the overwhelming majority of my time with her and that’s exactly how I like it. We’re comfortable, but we push each other to grow, which is a rare, rare thing. It’s a bubbly little cohabitation that’s tender and lovely and nice. I feel glad when I like someone enough to invite them over to dinner to see that, even for just a little while.

Roby is someone who’s here for breakfast lunch and dinner, and she’s slept over for almost ten months, and we have hopes of her sleeping over for at least another 206 months, hopefully longer. 

It’s a dance, of course, having her around. A give and take. We are obliged to change ourselves to make room for her, and she does her best to fit into the space we’ve made.  I think we both do a pretty good job, but Roby especially. She’s so dang happy and accommodating and tender and hilarious and cheerful and funny and easeful and bemused and curious and just a delight at all times. Sure, she cries and doesn’t like that part when a shirt gets pulled over your head and she doesn’t like having her butt wiped and she may never wear shoes, but really, I don’t like any of those things either and I’ve never had a giant proceed to force those things on me without so much as a conversation.

Roby is a complete person. Rich with dignity and personality and purpose we are not waiting for her to become an adult so we can talk about whatever it is self-described adults talk about. Roby is an immediate and immense pleasure to be around. She could never “grow up” and she would be a magnificent light in our lives for as long as we were lucky enough to be in her glare.

The purpose of human life is not the collection of pleasures and treasures while avoiding pain and heartache. The purpose of life is not to “Grow up” and write essays. The purpose of life is to smile at felt balls and to throw them at your dad. The purpose of life is to see how strong you are by pulling toys apart, to understand how your teeth work by biting the antique blanket chest, to scream at church, to whisper in church, to pinch dogs ears and to cry when they cry.

The purpose of life is to be a child for as long as you possibly can be and to cry in the car when you can’t fall alseep but really should.