August 7, 2017
It’s like there’s a magnet attached to the heart of a little one which causes the head of every senior citizen to swivel in that child’s direction.
We discovered that truth all over again when we took Noah and Madison to visit Mom at her assisted living facility. As soon as Meagan and the kids walked into the dining room, they were the immediate center of attention. Wrinkled faces erupted into smiles and white heads bobbed in appreciation.
I know that when I am ninety years old, the sight of a fresh-from-heaven, new-to-life toddler will create the same reaction in me.
After we had done a little visiting with Mom and her friends, she asked us to go over to the piano and sing and play while the residents had lunch. Meagan took this cool shot.
Sarah took this one. (Aren’t you proud of me for being in all these pictures?)
I realize that it doesn’t look like we were doing too much singing here; in fact, Sarah and I look like we very well could have been asleep. But I promise. We really did sing!
Noah and Madison brought joy in yet another way as they worked with Meagan to create a little book for Mom containing their photos.
They proudly presented it to her in a little ceremony.
Before I move on from the subject of grandchildren, I wanted to share a couple little stories.
1. When I pulled up to the Milwaukee airport to pick up Nathan and his family, Nathan stayed with the car to pack the luggage and I went inside to find Meagan and the kids.
The instant Noah and Madison spotted me across the luggage claim area, they both screamed, “GWAM-MA!” and started running across the terminal at top toddler speed. They both arrived in the vicinity of my person at about the same time and tackled me in a manner that would have done a middle school football team proud. Toddler-level, knee-high hugs are the best.
2. The other story is when Nathan told Noah that Aunt Debbie was going to play drums in church that coming Sunday. Noah said, “Nuh, uh, Daddy. Girls don’t play drums.” (He has only ever seen men play.)
When the Sunday service arrived and Debbie started playing, I leaned forward for a peak at Noah’s face. He was staring at her with an expression of total disbelief mixed with complete awe. I was so excited for him to see a girl play drums and so proud of Debbie for being the one who got to show her great-nephew that, “Uh, huh. Girls DO play drums.” Go, Deb!
Steve always makes comments about their greener-than-green lawn. (There may be just a little bit of lawn envy going on.)
On one evening during our visit, Nathan and I were able to snatch an hour of time together on the back porch. He and I so rarely have uninterrupted time to talk so it was the truest treasure to get to spend those moments with him. I so dearly love that son of mine and the amazing woman he married. And I especially love that Meagan saw with her heart just how much the moment meant and made sure to get a photo.
(A few of the pictures have captions at the bottom.)
was being reminded, once again, of the never-ending generational shiftings. I loved trying to imagine what my 82-year old mom was thinking as she looked at 2-year old Madison: her daughter’s son’s daughter.
I think it was so poignant to me because I was thinking that one day, I would be the full-of-years family matriarch in the easy chair. I would be the one looking into the eyes of my child’s child’s child.
When that day comes for me, I will finally find out what it feels like to sit at the end of one’s years, to sit and see the future just an arm’s reach away.
I will witness the hellos and goodbyes of the generations. I will see the never-ceasing cycle of struggles and smiles and marriages and births and deaths and the future and the past–all stitched together into the inimitable definition of family that a dictionary can never quite capture.
And when that day arrives, I will fold my hands and give thanks that I was allowed to live this life . . . these years . . . with these people . . . this family.
Thrift stores, fuzzy socks
and conversing with my Yorkie
are all on the list of things I love.