I’m at my desk, in my office, listening as the breeze brings fall to the Wasatch Front. Jackson Browne is on the stereo, softly; he is one of my favorite songwriters/singers. As you may be able to tell, I am in a very good place right now and content with what is around me; how I arrived here is the subject of this essay.
A few weeks ago, a phone call changed my life in many ways. Our son called; he was in a tight spot, so to speak, and needed us. He needed to press re-set, needed some time for him and his family to regroup and re-create their surroundings.
So it came to pass, as they say, that he and his family now are here to brighten my life, my wife’s life; with energy, laughter, love; all created by (perhaps nurtured by) the presence of him and his young family. We now have three young, lively grandchildren in our home, playing and asking the questions only the young ask, in their innocent ways. It’s good, very good.
In so many ways, it is normal for family to fall back on each other in times of trouble, in difficult circumstances. I vividly remember those times in my own youth, and my family being there to assist and support me in similar circumstances, for which I am ever grateful. But in many ways, to me, this is so different; so much more “in your face” perhaps.
I am walking one of my granddaughters home from kindergarten and seeing my world, which I thought I knew well, become alive and vibrant again through her ever-open eyes. Watching as she picks a seeded dandelion from the parking strip and slowly blows the seeds away, entranced as they take flight. I slow my pace to hers, as she makes sure she does not step on the cracks and divisions in the sidewalk, laughing at everything and perhaps nothing in particular. Unlike most adults, she does not require a reason to smile, or laugh; perhaps the comfort of my hand in hers allows her the freedom to live in the moment, not worried about tomorrow or the homework she has to do later.
While she does that homework, her younger sister traces the outline of my hand onto a piece of paper, with her hand gripping the pencil and her brow furrowed in concentration. She cares not that the paper she is using came from a box in my office; it’s older than she and her sister combined (OK, it’s left over tractor-feed from a time when dot-matrix printers were common). Nor does it matter to her that it is not perfect; she holds it up with a big smile on her face to show Daddy when he comes home from work. Simple pleasures, these, simple times; but they bring so much joy to one who has not yet become jaded by the world outside our door. I smile, wistfully wishing I still had that innocence myself.
How can I do justice to my almost three-month old grandson with only a keyboard? Suffice it to say he can bring a smile to my face; he gives me a wide, happy grin while I tickle his chin and explain his duties and responsibilities to him as the youngest person in the house, while he stares at me, eyes wide open. He is smiling, perhaps because he is thinking, “I got you under my spell, Grandpa!” Or perhaps he is thinking, pick me up, let me wrap my tiny fist in your exposed chest hair as I burp on your shoulder. From his bouncy-chair, he watches as the pendulum in the grandfather (how appropriate) clock moves back and forth; his eyes follow it and he slowly falls to sleep.
Yes, I am in a very good place right now, certainly not where I expected to be at this point in my life, but it’s all good. I’m glad that my son made that phone call; I know it was difficult for him. Moreover, I am glad we are here, healthy and still able to help him and his family.
Life is Good!
As always, thanks for reading; if you care to comment, click on the “comment” below. RMH