If you could see it

With L. scheduled to present a poster at the annual APHA meeting, we all set out for Boston on a sunny Saturday morning. On the flight up, I sat next to Cleo and told her that she might hear some novel accents. 'In Boston,' I explained, 'they sometimes don't say their r's very clearly.' And, falling back on an especially trite example, I added, 'They might say cah, or pahk.'

Two hours later, we were enjoying some drinks and conversation with our very gracious hosts, Perry and Susie, when Cleo walked directly up to Perry, and asked, 'Do you say the r in car?' Well, yes, it turned out - for he was raised in New Mexico, and never fostered a heavy New England accent. Or that's what he said, at least. An hour after that, as he took us on a driving tour of Cambridge, he happened to mention that the Charles had recently hosted its annual regatta. And Cleo, who had apparently been listening closely, turned to me in the back seat and smiled. 'Regatta,' she giggled, despite not even knowing the word's meaning. 'He doesn't say regatter.'

Well, that's right. But, regardless of accent, we had a happy little trip. In the heated hotel pool, Cleo learned how to use a kickboard, and tossed off about 30 laps, churning her little legs. In Cambridge, we had terrific hot chocolate, and in Somerville, caught up with old friends as Cleo got to try on a Belle-inspired dress. And this morning, with L. at the conference most of the day, Cleo and I tried out the strong Children's Museum, blowing large, drooping bubbles and trying our hand at a mock airplane control kit.

And then three hours later, as the two of us were boarding our plane home (L.'s in Boston for one more day), Cleo began to work the aisle. As travelers settled into their seats, to left and right, she turned to me, and smiled, and said, Cah. Pahk. Soft smiles began to form, on either side of her. Gahden.

By 5:15, we were in our car and on the road home, and as the city gave way to dark, I looked for a CD to play, to close out our short trip. My hand came up with an album by Coldplay, a best-seller that I've never played for Cleo. I told her a little bit about the band, and then skipped ahead to track 7, 'Speed of Sound.' The simple descending chords surrounded us, the stadium drums kicked in, and Chris Martin sang: 'If you could see it, you would understand.'

I think you would. The strangers in seats 7 c and d did, at least. The little girl can kindle warmth, and I'm so deeply happy that I get to spend time with her.