Looking at my grandchildren Sunday evening, I was reminded of how rapidly time passes.
My grandson is easily nine inches taller than me. He patted the top of my head and said, “You’re so tiny. You haven’t always been tiny.”
Tears welled up in my eyes as I remembered him running through the front door, grabbing my knees, looking up and saying, “Wuv oo” and running out into the back yard.
I told him I haven’t shrunk, he has grown.
Looking back, I remember rocking all three of my grandchildren to sleep. They fit on my lap back then and slept peacefully.
Their mom complains now that they stay up too late. I have no suggestions. My three sons stayed up too late and my mom complained — sometimes loudly — that I did, as well.
They all overwhelm my lap when — and if — I can get any one of them to sit there. Rocking is out of the question.
Looking out the front door, I notice a tree that was a tiny twig when planted is easily 20 feet tall. It was planted 14 years ago, the first year we had the house. A “volunteer” tree next to the shed grew very tall and had to be pruned to protect the overhead wires.
Life goes on and then it ends. When I first moved into the house, the children were small, played outdoors and got dirty. My sons did the same, as did I. An only child, I often had to create my own solo games, but there was always dirt. My mom simply pointed me toward the bathroom, ordering me to emerge clean.
The boys didn’t bathe until the day was done and the grandkids treated bath time as play time.
Watching them today, I think about those times with nostalgia. When I bought some black bath towels, my daughter-in-law observed it would work with the kids. That wasn’t the reason. I was just changing the décor.
Sunday night, my grandson used one of those towels and made no comment. He didn’t need to. One can’t get too dirty sitting in the big easy chair playing games on a smart phone.
Change is coming and we feel it. School is in full operation and classes require paperwork.
In that respect, nothing has changed.
I think of people displaced by terrible weather in places hit by hurricanes, tropical storms and flooding and I wonder how they will pick up the pieces of their lives. We adapt to change better here, I think, then I remember nearly 200 people who lost homes in the Spring Fire.
The tears well up again.
What does time have in store?