Soft, Small Hand
When Arthur was sleeping while I was visiting the other day, I put his little hand in mine, just to reassure him that I was standing by, ready to walk with him throughout his life.
It’s funny, when you have a little one around, how the focus of your life shifts 100% away from you, and 100% toward them. Suddenly, this little being becomes the center of the universe, and you are forced? Allowed to? Compelled to? alter your own orbit to meet their needs. This process is only slightly less intense for grandmas, but still incredibly strong. I haven’t felt the need to put on my superwoman cape when I go to the park by myself, until I’ve got the little darling with me. Then, my shield, my sword, my x-ray vision are all armed, and I’m ready to go.
It is spring here now, just in time, as April starts tomorrow. Applause, again, for New Jersey’s winter – you’re very well behaved, Sir Winter. You are not a hog. You took up exactly the time allotted for you, and you can be proud of yourself. Thank you for getting out of the way for Miss Spring, to be followed by Ms. Summer, and Dame Autumn. See what I did there? Not damn autumn of yesteryear, but Dame Autumn, a lovely, graceful time.
I’m listening to new species of birds chirp outside, as they return from the south to play in my little harbor, and the cool spring breeze is rippling through my cocoon, awakening me to the adventures to come. In a month, I’m emerging from my little, sweet cocoon to a new, much bigger nest. No longer do I need the solace, the solitariness, the silence of my white, puffy chrysalis. I’ve regained enough strength, mental peace, courage, joy, hope and quiet determination to re-enter the world, if only just a little bit.
I’m excited to begin again, to build on what I’ve built here in my haven. My home will always be my haven, but the new one will have a guest room and a kid bathroom! I’m looking forward to the full-length balconies that overlook the Hudson, my high-floor view of NYC, and of continued peace and tranquility. I’ll get to put flowers outside to attract hummingbirds and butterflies, and will put up a hammock in order to greet each morning with my coffee and my NYTimes puzzles.
I hope this will be my ‘for the rest of my life’ place. It is large enough, and safe enough, and beautiful enough that I hope my next 50-ish years can be spent there in peace and tranquility. When it’s my time to go – when my kids are all in their 80’s, maybe I’ll head to Florida, strap on a parasailing vest, and be whisked off to the great unknown, knowing I have lived a life of love, happiness and kindness. That’s a dream for a long time from now, but it is a happy one, indeed.
