GRANDPAS
“Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young.”
Dear Hadley,
I just woke up to this message from my dad (your grandpa):
“How are you this morning? I’m just eating Honey Nut Cheerios with Ms. Hadley.”
Ms. Hadley. That’s you, little big one.
Grandpa isn’t good with sending pictures or videos, so I’m not sure of your exact Cheerio scenario. But I picture the two of you sitting in the dining room, with O’s scattered across the table. I imagine each of you picking them up and popping them into your mouth like eating is a game. I'm sure you're both laughing.
Your grandpa is in awe of you. He thinks you're magnificent (which is a feeling shared by us all). And based on the way your face lights up when he enters the room, it's clear you think you think he's pretty incredible, too.
When I was little, I loved time with my moms dad. I remember sitting side by side on the cool tile of the kitchen floor, snuggled up against his warm cashmere sweater, with a glass jar of cookies between us. We'd chit-chat with our mouths full of chocolate chips, whispering so that no one would catch us sneaking treats before dinner. I don't remember what we talked about, and the cookies weren’t special cookies or anything, but that moment is still one of the most special things I can think of.
It's good to remember that sometimes the best moments just look like whispers or laughs or Cheerios on the table with Grandpa.
I love you, little one.
Aunt Liz
