“Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.”
I listen to the chatter of my granddaughter who is downstairs using her imagination and playing a game with dolls that were mine when I was a child.
I wish it wasn’t special.
I wish it was an everyday occurrence–or at least something that happened once a week or so when she dropped by to visit and maybe spend a night or two or ten.
I wish I would hear her voice call ‘Grandma!’ as she rushes through the front door and it would be ordinary–nothing special.
I wish our time together was frequent and regular and I would grow weary and wonder if I had the energy to keep up with her for one more hour.
I wish it was commonplace for her to crawl into bed with us in the morning and share quiet early morning moments before the day begins.
I wish I would hear her voice often jumping in at the end of a prayer before dinner, giving thanks for something in particular.
I wish I could join in with her songs and games, over and over again, until I was weary of them.
I wish I wouldn’t have to tuck her into bed later tonight with a lump in my throat when she tells me again that she wishes she could stay longer.
I stand at the top of the stairs and listen to the game she is playing, and the fun she is having in her make-believe world, and know a time like this would be special no matter how often I was blessed to bear witness to it. How could it be otherwise?
I’m grateful for this moment; I wish I could have more.
I hear a clock ticking and feel the weight of time passing and I whisper prayers for this dear one as she chatters on unaware.
I hope she knows how precious she is. I hope she learns how to stand strong, dream big, and never settle.
I hope she knows I love her to pieces and have since that day when I held her in my arms just after she was born and marvelled at the miracle she was. Still is.
I hope she knows she is in my heart every moment, whether we are together or whether the distance between us is far. Too, too far.
I hope she knows how special our time together is even though I wish it wasn’t. Because even if it wasn’t. . . it would be. Of course it would be.
I hope that the ordinary and extraordinary days we spend together will make a difference, and that the memories we make will linger long after I’m gone.
I wish. I hope. And I pray. And I pray some more. Because that’s what grandmas do.