They say time is fleeting, passing in the wink of an eye. One moment
you are playing hop scotch with your grade two friends. The next
moment you are going home from the hospital, your brand new baby in
tow, gazing at this amazing little creature who has been given into
your care. Another twinkling of an eye - your little boy is all grown
up and there, before you, is his own bundle of joy. A squirming
little baby with spiky yellow hair and a big toothless grin – your
grandchild – and you fall instantly, head over heels, in love with
her.
Each time you see her she
becomes more endearing, more engaging, more lovable, funnier, smarter
and just all around more wonderful.
The memories of times spent with my granddaughter have lately come
flooding back to me.
She's seven. We are playing miniature golf when I discover she has a
sense of humour. In fact, she is quite comical and makes me laugh. At
seven? Walking beside her, she looks up at me, the innocence of
childhood on her face, and she slips her hand into mine. We walk
along like that for blocks. My heart melts.
She
sits on my lawn gathering up some snails, painstakingly naming each
of them. She decides who is the aunt, the mother, the brother, where
they are going and where they have been. The next day she searches
for her family of snails only to discover they have moved on.
She is nine. She has fallen asleep on the floor while we are
watching a kids movie she has chosen. Unable to awaken her with
gentle nudges, I try to lift her dead weight from the floor, nudging
some more, still trying not to startle her but she is dead to the
world. Eventually I need to shake the goodness out of her to get a
response and she stirs. With her eyes still closed, we walk to her
bedroom where I watch her fall back asleep, comfy in bed, her face a
picture of contentment.
Ordering drinks to go at Starbucks; a sticky, cold concoction
covered in whipped cream for her and a frothy cappuccino for me. She
wants to carry the drinks to the car. In order to open the door, she
places the drinks on the roof before either one of us remembers the
sun roof is open. We watch in horror as the frothy, sticky cold
concoction, and the hot cappuccino, splatter all over the inside of
the car. Her face registers first shock when she realizes what's
happened until she glances at me and sees I can barely hold back the
laughter. Together, through fits of giggles, we clean up the sticky
mess that is oozing into each little crevice of the leather
upholstery
We spend glorious afternoons at The Children's Discovery Museum, a
wonderful hands-on, interactive museum that teaches children through
play. We play spy. I am the leader and she the spy who has to go
from phone to phone and listen to my instructions. At the first phone
she is to go to the super market area and purchase a box of corn
flakes. At the next phone she is to dress up in a medieval costume,
but switch the hats. We do this for hours, me barking orders and she
obeying; she takes it very seriously. At one point in our play, she
looks up at me and says, “Grandma, you're so much fun.” Again,
that melting heart.
One day I see the little tomboy who refuses to wear anything other
than sport team jerseys and jeans suddenly choose a new dress to wear
for her first day of school.
Two summers ago she visited with us for most of her high school
vacation and was put to work around the house to earn her pocket
money. She washed windows, mowed the lawn, dusted and polished
furniture, made her bed each day and painted a shed. In the evenings
we played cards or a board game and laughed ourselves silly. While
riding our bikes together, just her and me, we talked. Long
conversations about life, love, drugs, sex, dating, there were no
off-limit subjects. What a wonderful gift to have grown into that
kind of relationship with her. “Grandma, I really like talking to
you. I don't know why but I feel like I can say anything to you.”
She's
17, in grade 12 and about to embark on one of the most exciting times
of her life. This
November she has asked me to accompany her to an Open House at a
university she would like to attend next year. And, she wants me to
come along and share in part of this with her. Just us two. A girl's
week-end away, grandmother and granddaughter. Am I pleased? You bet!
