Grunties. It's more than just a British word that's fun to say and has to do with what you may think it does. It's also more than the chuckling middle of a Monty Python sketch involving silly people that you may have heard already. Rather, "grunties" will always be Emilia's first phase of vocalizations for me, though they will never eclipse the great big HEY! she yelled to her Ma when first she made her appearance in this world.
Emilia, you made grunties, non-stop, starting shortly after you were born in the summer of '14. For us, that little esophageal burst of air accompanied with a even quieter noise, over and over and over again for weeks, became so ubiquitous we had to give you the nickname. We'd pick you up in your cocoon swaddle, and you'd turn into Grunties as your head swiveled to follow the moving scenery. We'd change your diaper, and Grunties emerged with each contortion we put you through. Head on shoulder napping, lounging in bed eating, resting in the hammock under fruit trees, your every life move required a sound from Grunties.
This #14 is dedicated to your first summer, up there in good ol' Eureka, when, among the moving boxes and general stirring of our life, Grunties serenaded the horse pasture trailer as we prepared to depart it. You grunted outside while the trees waved at you and the sun danced through their branches. Grunties joined the bird song and the sound of wind through pine, poplar and willow, and helped break the beautiful, long country silences. Grunties will also always be the first new and exciting thing you did that we watched you grow out of.
I'm thankful you were born into a place and time where nature touched your senses more often than traffic or technology. I'm also thankful you responded so gruntily.
