Untouched by Time
It was a magnificent Memorial Day weekend in our neck of the woods. No special fanfare or entertainment was needed — just the joy of sweet clear air, the sight and smell of flowering trees and newly planted annuals. It felt great to be alive, blessed by nature’s gifts and the joy of seeing 3 out of 5 of our grandchildren, and oh yeah, their parents. Even the loud yapping of their adorable Westie couldn’t mar the moment. Sophie (the noisy white fluff-ball) frolicked with our Norwich a little too rambunctiously, but they worked it out.
We sat by a pool, the water still too cold to take the plunge, so the kids played with each other and the available pool equipment. I was heartened to hear a familiar flow of fantasy from the 13 year old. He was a javelin thrower — Olympic competitor — wielding a pool cleaning tool and announcing the play-by-play of his gold medal shot; he was a tennis champion with a phenomenal overhead smash; he was going out for the long pass, and all with a teenaged vocabulary accompanying the same rich pretend play resources that he exhibited at three and four, when “we were plumbers” or he was a landscaper, a pirate, a carpenter, a lover of tools and the work they each do. The ease with adults that had been there since birth was unchanged, a lifelong gift that I know will stand him in good stead. He can navigate easily between an obviously rich inner life and the real world of social challenges.
Grandparenthood is a different vantage point. Unlike his parents, I don’t focus on whether he did his homework, whether he studied for a final exam, made his bed, hung up his clothes. That splendid way he has of relating to himself and others is enough for me. He’ll do fine.
May 28, 2008