My last night there, before heading off to New York, I knew how much I was going to miss her. She is everything. With her joyous enthusiasm, her rough and tumble energy, that's my granddaughter. At the time, nineteen months going on--what?
She's bossy, demanding, impatient, sweet, loving, polite, generous, curious, brilliant, funny, assertive, helpful, and a whirlwind of energy. We sat on the stairs together, and I, happy just to be in her company--the way I was happy just to be in the company of her Daddy, my son-- listened to her babble. About what I don't remember. It occurred to me that after tomorrow, after I walked past the security checkpoint at the airport I would not see her again for awhile, maybe a long while. So on this, our last evening together I tried to bask in her presence, and take it all in, as if in a snapshot to hold forever and look at.
Unlike a photo she is changing, even as I write this.
When I see her again she'll be taller, bigger, with more hair. She'll have a broader vocabulary. And what will I have missed?
I think of my life here, in the Big Apple. There are good people here, people I'll never forget--and some not so good. I have business to take care of before my life can go forward. I found I could no longer tolerate aspects of my old life, the way I was living. "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water," cautions that old proverb. I understand those words well and take them to heart.
Discard what you no longer need: I've done a lot of that in the past year. Keep what has value: nurture it, help it grow.
She's bossy, demanding, impatient, sweet, loving, polite, generous, curious, brilliant, funny, assertive, helpful, and a whirlwind of energy. We sat on the stairs together, and I, happy just to be in her company--the way I was happy just to be in the company of her Daddy, my son-- listened to her babble. About what I don't remember. It occurred to me that after tomorrow, after I walked past the security checkpoint at the airport I would not see her again for awhile, maybe a long while. So on this, our last evening together I tried to bask in her presence, and take it all in, as if in a snapshot to hold forever and look at.
Unlike a photo she is changing, even as I write this.
When I see her again she'll be taller, bigger, with more hair. She'll have a broader vocabulary. And what will I have missed?
I think of my life here, in the Big Apple. There are good people here, people I'll never forget--and some not so good. I have business to take care of before my life can go forward. I found I could no longer tolerate aspects of my old life, the way I was living. "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water," cautions that old proverb. I understand those words well and take them to heart.
Discard what you no longer need: I've done a lot of that in the past year. Keep what has value: nurture it, help it grow.
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