Small Moments
I’m watching cars approach the terminal when I hear a familiar voice. I turn to see my 7-year-old granddaughter sprinting towards me. She runs into my arms. A man watching the scene says: Someone is happy to see you.
Which is part of the magic of grandchildren. They are so happy to see you. And it fills my heart.
Her other grandma and I meet her for lunch at school the next day. She guides us through the lunch line–how is it always the same?–and takes us to a high table with barstools. Over popcorn chicken and rice, we hear about her morning.
At the end of lunch, she arranges us on either side of her so she can hold each of our hands as we walk her back to class. Remember this, I tell myself.
We step out of the car after a 30-minute ride. I offer to take the younger two on a scooter ride around the loop. Only the 3-year-old takes me up on it. With a helmet on her head and her hands gripping the handlebars, she pushes away, with me on her heels.
Down the block, around the corner, over a footbridge. She waits for me to catch up, so I position myself to take a picture. She whizzes down the hill, looking at me. Watch where you’re going, I call, but I am grateful she wants me near.
When we’re resting on a curb, the 5-year-old spots us. The 3-year-old is done, so I walk her into the house and hear the older one ask his mom for treats for two. Baggies of crackers in hand, I start around the loop, again, this time following a boy on a bike.
Down the block, around the corner, over a footbridge. He waits for me and we sit on a bench to eat our crackers. He notices when I put the last one in my mouth. He hands me one of his last crackers.
Now I know what moms of older children always try to tell younger moms: It all goes so fast.
It wasn’t so long ago that I walked their dad into his kindergarten class. Or followed him around the block. Or watched him zing a baseball to the 2nd baseman for an out.
But no one tells you this: before you know it, you’re watching your little boy snuggle, teach and laugh with his little people. And if you’re lucky, you get to be a small part of that circle again. Only now I know this: remember the small moments.
“In the end
Little Wonders, Rob Thomas
We will only just remember how it feels
Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders
These twists and turns of fate
Time falls away
But these small hours
These small hours
Still remain”