July 12, 2018
Granddaughter is six months old, and keenly interested in everything.
I was warming a bottle. Baby on hip, we did a tour of her kitchen. When she saw banana muffins under a glass dome, she froze. As one unit, we moved close to the dome. When her hands found the glass, she seemed to forget about the muffins. She gave the cool clearness a heavy-breathing examination. She found the knob on top and quick as a cricket, dragged the muffins toward us. Ah granddaughter, I see your game! By then the bottle was ready.
I was sitting with her on her front porch. She gets tired of laps so I put her beside me. ‘Bench,’ I told her. She gave that smooth-weathered wooden bench a thorough going over. Slats. Set-in screw heads. Her favorite part was the arm. Just right for gumming. Don’t tell her parents.
She was waking from a nap. I went to the crib, to watch the process. Such a rubbing of fists in eyes, wriggling around in a stunned kind of way. Wait for it: those heavenly blue eyes finally looked up and beheld a grandmother in love, looking down at her. She registered the proper response: amazement.
May she hold on to that.
No pics of her will I post, but here’s one of her paternal grandparents, recently taken. The amazement here is how well a church directory photo can turn out. We’ve had some, mmm, fairly stilted ones in prior directories. Maybe the magic this time is grandparenthood. And a good hair day for me, all too rare.