The house is quiet and still.
Cookie crumbs crunch underfoot, Cheerios roll out of odd places, finger and nose pictographs crisscross windows. A red block peeks from under the sofa, smears of jam decorate the table. A tiny facecloth dries on a chair. A tumbleweed of dog hair sticks to a shiny puddle on the floor.
I sit with my coffee, simply enjoying the moment and the dust and the memories. Soon enough the washing machine, vacuum cleaner, mop and dust rag will cut the silence and clean away all traces that a boy lived here for awhile. He’ll be back again, in another ten days, but for now, the plants will come down from their perch in high places, the cookbooks will find their way back to their bottom shelf, and the hair ties will once again tie hair, allowing the cupboard doors to swing free.
This past week, with a 14 month grandchild in the house, admittedly, such quiet moments have been rather brief. But I’ve exchanged them for many others filled with noise and laughter, love and hope, excitement and awe. And the fun of a full kitchen with everyone pitching in to help.
He calls me to watchfulness in the moment. He is fearless. And fast.
And delights in each new thing. His delight becomes mine.
And when I catch this little person watching me, imitating my actions, I am grateful for where I am in my life. Because I have so much more of the real me to give him now during our brief visits. Does that make any sense?
When I am with him, I am with him entirely…. not Busy Writer or Harried Housewife. I’m Nana.
I may never know what influence I have on him, but I cannot control that outcome. I can only give him the best of me in the moment and hope that someday, he will carry those bits of me within his own heart. And I remain heart wide-open, ready for the ways in which he will teach me.
He will only come to know us in small chunks of time…vacations from half-way across the country, but for now, I am grateful for every messy moment.
221. The wonder and depth of those big brown eyes that see so much and how they call me to see from a new perspective.
222. Spontaneity that throws all careful plans to the wind and picks up the pieces of what is left and runs with it, laughing.
223. A tiny soul that is already pushing his limits, testing his boundaries.
224. A small innocent hand tucked safely within in a larger, wise one. Always held safely, protected.
225. A mom (once a young, impressionable brown-eyed child herself), now grown into a pillar of love and patience.
226. The music of giggles. Belly laughs and dimples.
227. Visits to the farms of friends…and a young one’s Delight of the Unknown (not fear, not apprehension, but delight). The learning flows both ways.
228. The kindness of a friend arriving with a gift of healing…St. John’s Wort oil from Carole at Tansy Lane.
229. The generosity of a huge basket of vegetables, fresh picked from Ruth’s garden…the picking together part of the joy.
230. And finally, a captured moment: enduring patience, silhouetted in light.
Wishing you many messy moments, giggles and belly laughs this week.