The Path to Grandchildren Bliss
I am reminded over and over again the gift of children, whether my own or those of my own. In a recent extended visit with two of my grandchildren, I felt the conduit of love that I’m sure many grandparents experience. Lucky for me, I have many opportunities to spend time with them, who are growing not only in size, but in mind and heart perspective.
Amelia , almost 7 and Marie, almost 5 (yes, we are counting down the days until birthdays) had quite the “fancy” week picking strawberries, going to the zoo, swimming and singing out loud to the latest “Sing 2” soundtrack, on repeat. I’m happy to report I now know all the songs and can join in the sing-alongs.
Our ordinary time was filled with the welcome of summer breezes and the skip of silly steps. The weather cooperated and we had many opportunity to walk among the dandelions and picnic in the parks. During these simple times, I loved the conversations that randomly popped up. We talked about how squirrels sleep, and what the word “rarely” means, and how many laps around the cul-de-sac equals one mile. (Nona needed to get her miles in, after all). We walked every day, and during one such walk, Marie wondered out loud, “Nona, are you sad your kids are all grown up?”
Her question touched me deeply. For a mere second, I was tempted to succumb to emotion due to years gone by. I remember playing 4 square with my kids in the cul-de-sac. I remember picking strawberries with them an eternity ago. I remember the simple sanctities of walks, grilled cheese sandwiches, and night-time tuck-ins that threaded the needle of a challenging day towards a new tomorrow. Now, my adult kids are crafting their own memories with their own families. I’m left with comfort in knowing they were meant to grow, become smart and strong, and figure out life paths cultivated in love they claim as their own.
If my kids weren’t grown, they wouldn’t have children which makes me a grandmother. And, being a grandmother is golden! During my week with my granddaughters, we broke all the rules. We had ice cream before dinner. On day, we had a sensible lunch, and then we decided on a whim to have another lunch full of waffle fries, breaded nuggets, and chocolate milk. We stayed up late, walked in the mud, and ate candy after breakfast. The best of all, however, is that I get to cultivate relationship with them as their emerging and lovely minds question and verbalize curiosity that expands my world. It’s a win-win. My hard pivot to the present moment made me realize the answer to Marie’s big question rested in our entwined fingers.
Memories and days gone by were then, but candy after breakfast and ice cream before dinner are now. I have the freedom to love without expectation. I can spoil without having to worry about consequences, and we can dedicate a week to the sole purpose of being fancy.
As we talked, I wanted to honor Marie’s sweet and sensitive question. She knows very well her mom was my first child, and I share memories all the time about when she was a little girl, and how similar they are to her. Same love shared through generations.
No, Marie, I’m not sad, because if it weren’t for my own who are now all grown up, I wouldn’t have you. And having you makes tromping in puddles and strawberry milkshakes magical.