Oak Park!

Oak Park is an old-timey amusement park in Southeast Portland that was built in 1905. There's a carousel there that is 100 years old, and lots of kiddie rides, and midway games -- it's a Portland institution, which is why we decided to take Rachel there today.

(This, mind you, was after the scare we got last night when Drew tried to open the bookcase we'd moved upstairs and it nearly fell on top of him. Long story short: Our attic floor is wildly uneven near the baseboards -- we measured it with a carpenter's level -- and so we'll need to brace the bookcase to the wall to make sure it doesn't topple over. This kept us up, talking and worrying, until 2 a.m. But thankfully a visit to the hardware store this morning convinced Drew that he can brace the bookcase by himself).

Anyway...we got to Oak Park around 1:30 after detours to Goodwill (got rid of a box of clothing, yay!), the eyeglass store to get our glasses frames straightened out (mine got bent after Drew accidentally knocked them over while we were moving one of the bookcases) and an estate sale. Rachel immediately wanted to ride the carousel, then the Ferris wheel, then she did all the kiddie rides over and over and over again. To her credit, she said "thank you!" every time a ride attendant helped her on and off a ride, or buckled/unbuckled her. She went on every ride except a few by herself and -- because this is Rachel -- she kept making friends with everyone sitting next to her. (On one ride she was in front of an older sister with her younger sibling, and when the older sister didn't want to ride a second time, the younger one said to Rachel, "wanna go on it again?" and Rachel grabbed her hand and they had a great time).

For her last ride, Rachel chose to go on the train that circles the park. She insisted on doing it herself and having Drew and I wave goodbye to her. "Goodbye!" she said, waving frantically. "See you in a few months!" she added. "Write when you find work!" Drew hollered back. "We'll miss you!" I added wistfully. Within a minute she had turned around and started chatting with the mom and daughter behind her and gave us a confident smile when the train started moving. It was a just an amusement park ride but for a moment I got a glimpse of our future -- saying goodbye to her over and over again -- at sleepovers, at sleep-away camp, at vacations with friends, at college -- until she's really gone for good. And that made me sad.

***

We left the park quite late and, on impulse, stopped at a creperie called Suzette in Southeast Portland. Bad decision: the onion soup was dreadful, the crepes took way too long and mine was too rich (I'm still queasy and am drinking some green tea to calm my stomach) and at first Rachel didn't like her peanut butter crepe. But later on she ate almost all of it, and was enraptured by a ghost story Drew told her at dinner (which followed the golem story he started this morning and finished up before our dinner came. While we were getting our eyeglasses fixed earlier today he rushed up to me and whispered, "The monsters in Jewish lore -- are they called golum or golem?" Never thought I'd hear this from my non-Jewish husband). Plus he taught her to play dominoes with a set he found at the restaurant.

Over dinner Rachel started telling us about ghosts. "Number one," she said. "They don't have eyes. Number two: They don't like lights. Number three: They don't like people."

***

On the drive home, after I announced that I was going to bake Daddy a birthday cake (Drew's birthday is coming up on Thursday), Rachel thought I had ruined a surprise. But I told her I wouldn't tell him the kind of cake I was going to bake. To throw him off the scent she said loudly, "We're going to make you a strawberry cake. With strawberries from the ground -- the reddest, juiciest, most succilent (she meant "succulent," of course) ones that you could ever imagine!"

***

Forgot to mention this yesterday: Drew had already gotten up to shower, I was half-asleep in bed, and Rachel crawled up next to me, kissed me on the cheek and said softly, "You're the best thing in the world." And no, there is absolutely no better way to start the day!