Celebrating Boston and Granddaughter’s too…
Boston was a buzz. Marathon fever was everywhere. The energy, intoxicating. I adore every moment I am “home” but this weekend while visiting my daughter and her family just outside of the city magic was floating through the warm New England air. Daffodils and forsythia. Tulips nibbled by an unknown nocturnal visitor. Trees just starting to bloom…
Patriot’s Day weekend. The heart of Boston ripples in an all-encompassing wave. Running shoes required whether competing or not. My granddaughter Belle was cozy and relaxed in her running stroller while my daughter and I were out and about early Sunday morning. We chatted nearly nonstop as we made our way down a bike path before cutting over to Mass Ave…
A man. A dad sporting a Boston Marathon jacket was biking down Mass Ave. Traditional in its BAA colors, yet the race year was unknown. Two small children safely seated behind him on his bike. A Sunday morning family ride. Mom on her bike tucked close behind. Individuals, couples, and families in search of a fresh hot cup while unofficially celebrating all things Boston. My daughter Emily and I optimized our time together. We always do. Unspoken was the looming pressure of time as I would head home soon…
We made our way back to my daughter’s home. A rabbit in view. Frozen in its vigilance by a tree near their back deck. Belle stood equally as quiet and observed. So gentle in her curiosity. Once in the house I gathered my things in preparation to leave. I said my goodbyes again and again. One more hug and then another as I reminded Belle of my love for her.
As I headed north to Vermont fatigue and sadness settled in. I have never been good about saying goodbye to those I love so deeply. Tired I was. A reality of a certain age. My age. Yet energized by this young family that keeps me in my best shape.
I thought about the many moments of pure joy. Endless giggles and the impromptu hugs. Reading books and constructing puzzles. Exploring the world of pretend. We brewed air coffee by the cupful. Snacked on imaginary meals. Licked pretend ice cream cones. We popped into some of my seascape paintings as we imagined being on the beach while on our way to “Coco’s house.” Held hands as we walked to the playground.
As her small perfect face tilted up towards mine and with large expressive brown eyes, she said to me … “I love you, Gram.”
“We measure the joy of grandchildren in the heart.” — Unknown
