I have three lovely grandchildren. They are, and for the past 21 years, have been, the light of my life. When they were little, they would come tumbling into my house like over-grown puppies, all legs and feet and ponytails and giggles, nipping and nudging at each other. I loved the long, warm summer days when they would run in and out of the house with their tales and discoveries and petty arguments, silly and surprising requests and demands for yet more food. Even before they were on their way home, I was already grieving the loss of their childhood wonder; of the smell of dirt and pine needles in their hair. Every visit wore me out and every sign of their growing up tore at my heart with knowing that the day when they would outgrow their fascination with the world around them was just around the corner.
But to my amazement, all three of them continue to make it a point to come visit. They jockey their school and work and Scout schedules around every summer, and each one of them spends a few precious days alone with us. Each visit is tailored to their age--they always have a very definite idea of the things they want to accomplish: Can we play golf with Grandpa?, Will you teach me to make merengues? Can we go to Farmer's Market? Can we visit the Rock Shop? Will you teach me to crochet? ...
What I have been pleasantly surprised with is that I, too, have evolved. I honestly do not know if I could still keep up with those little bundles of energy. I do, however, have the time to sit and listen, to ask questions, to proffer advise. And I have discovered that this stage is just as fulfilling, just as enjoyable, just as filled with the wonder of their discoveries of growing up and negotiating the world they live in...their world
Thank you for these words of comfort/advice! Sniff, sniff...