Reincarnation

I'm not sure that I believe in reincarnation.

I do believe that when you miss someone who's made the big move to heaven, sometimes you seek to see characteristics of that person in the people that surround you.

For me, the people I watch most are my little people.

I've said before, that when my dad was battling colon cancer Sarina was my perfect distraction- chipper, happy, asking millions of questions, full of life.

I found that explaining things in a way that wouldn't scare her, helped me to feel less scared about what was happening.

And Carl was my sense of peace.

All I had to do was look into his soulful eyes that seemed all knowing, with his dimpled chin and ridiculously wonderful chubby cheeks and I felt good.

Regardless of what was going on around me, those two little bodies carried me along.

But my Charlie Watson never once got to meet his Grandpa Watson.

They must have hung out in heaven before Charlie was sent down to us.

Not only does Charlie Bear look uncannily like his grandpa,

he's drawn to many things that seem odd for a little boy- but make perfect sense knowing my dad.

Am I looking for the connection, or is it just so very undeniable?

Examples you want?

Well, a little while ago I pulled a box of things from my grandma (my dad's mom) and washed them up.  My house is filled with her handi-work- she was an amazing artist of all crafts from macrame to embroidery to quilting.  There was nothing she couldn't do and with an incredible eye for detail.

So, I washed up these place mats she'd embellished and had them drying over my claw foot tub in my bathroom.

Charlie came up to me with a look of wonder in his eyes holding out one place mat, asking where I had gotten that, like he'd found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

I told him he could keep it

and he looked like he'd won the lottery.

His face just glowed as he walked away hugging that piece of cloth.

Shortly after Mark and I were hunting around for a wooden box that he'd promised Charlie.

The promise came after Charlie pined, repeatedly for a wooden box he's seen (and keeps returning to see) at the Olympia Farmer's Market.

We couldn't find Mark's box but I did re-discover an old carved wooden duck decoy that had been my dad's.

I knew Charlie was the perfect one to have it.

He's been toting that thing all over the place, like it's a stuffed teddy bear.

The kicker was last night.

I was marveling that he was so content roaming around, n@#$d {I tried to get rid of that word because some dirty bird googled that plus little boy-sick-o!!} as a jay bird, when I noticed that he'd piled up all of his favorite place mats from my grandma.

Painstakingly he laid each one in a ring around the edge of his bed, then climbed into the center and snuggled into a naked little ball.

I coaxed him into letting me take his picture, thankfully he pulled on clothes for the picture.

See the duck?

It was his idea to put it into the picture too.

I know my dad would love watching him.

Of course, my dad loved all kids and would love the unique individuality of each and every one of them.

But I think mostly, I wish I could watch him watch this little boy who seems to have so many funny characteristics his grandpa had.

Would he notice the similarity?

Would he identify with him?

Or would he just be another one of his sweet grand babies?

I know he can see him.

And sometimes,

when I want to see my dad,

I watch my Charlie marvel in a pretty bird,

spot some obscure object from a crazy long distance,

and delight in unique treasures that wouldn't turn most 6 year old boys' heads.

It's going to be fun watching who he grows into being.

I see so much potential for his special little soul.