URBANNA — When I was 78 years old I was blessed with a new grandchild. I had thought that grandbabies would no longer be born in our family, we already had four grandchildren, and even if I was taken completely by surprise, I could not help but rejoice at the baby boy that was suddenly placed in my lap.
Life delivers many surprises and I have found that most of them turn out to be blessings. As my grandson is now 5 years old, and now that I am in my 80s, (I almost consider him to be my great-grandson!) I believe it is safe to say that this is my last grandchild.
My youngest grandson recently spent some time with me during spring break when he was out of school. We had a busy day playing at the Urbanna playground and walking the docks of Urbanna’s harbor area checking out the boats, but the most fun activity was to visit River Birch nursery to buy some red and pink geraniums, vinca and daisies and plant the flowers in the backyard patio pots. The potting soil and spade were just messy enough to delight a young boy.
But the real jackpot was picking up pine cones with our new “super dooper pine cone picker upper,” a long pole with two tongs on the end that can be manipulated to grip a pine cone and then drop it into a bucket for Auntie Liz who uses them to light fire in her fireplace.
It was hot that day, last Thursday when the temperature rose to an unseasonably warm 84 and growing tired from such a busy day with Grandmother, my grandson removed his shirt to cool off and joined me for some relaxation on the swing. We had earlier enjoyed a lunch of ham sandwiches, carrots and bananas and perhaps the combination of the heat, exertion, full tummy and the hypnotic back and forth rocking of the swing triggered his first yawn. Before I knew it he had crawled into my lap, sprawled and fallen fast asleep.
What a treat for grandmother! The older grandchildren had long ago given up hugs and kisses. They were much too sophisticated now for such silliness. So, I was really enjoying perhaps the last few months of a grandchild that still cozied up in my lap.
We continued to swing back and forth, I thought once again how comforting a backyard swing is. I spend many hours in the swing overlooking my garden watching the flowers bud, come to bloom, fade and fall back to earth. I listen to birdsongs and watch the squirrels scamper across the boughs of trees. I see firsthand the four seasons arrive and pass on by. I see the red berries of the holly trees come and go, the pine cones drop each day, and the constant sprinkling of pine needles that fall from the sky like coconut strewn over a cake.
I see the feral cats play hide and seek under the thick shrubbery against the back fence, never coming too near to me, but daring to approach Dandy because they know he is a gentle dog. It is here from my perch on the swing that I pet Dandy daily and all the while I notice the growing grey on his muzzle as he ages, as I do, as the years pass on by.
A marvelous sensation passes through my brain. I see us as if from afar, Dandy, Grandmother and the youngest grandson in the swing on some fine spring day as if we have been captured for all time in a Norman Rockwell painting.
Father’s words come back to me. Words from 55 years ago when I had just given birth to my own son. I had just come home from the hospital carrying the bouquet of yellow roses he had sent to celebrate the event, a first male grandbaby. The phone had rung and Father, calling from Ohio, was on the other end. “Congratulations Mays on the new son.” (Whom I had named after Father.)
“Babies, Mays,” he had continued. “The most essential part of life, the reason why we exist, nothing is more important than babies!”
I thought of my grandson and decided once again Father’s words were truth. As I have thought of his words over and over during my lifetime, especially after he passed away, the words returning now as if they were etched somehow in my brain forever. As if he were still with me, still here to teach me all he knew about life for me to pass on to the next generation.
I suddenly think of Robert Browning’s poem “Love among the Ruins” and I rewrite his last line to fit my mood… “Talk of kings and things and all the rest. Babies are best.”
©2023
