All I can say is that she had to have been at war with herself for the last two months, had to. My wife, ever more cautious than I am about things, deliberately and patiently waited for her second trip south to Oklahoma to see her newest grandbaby. We'd been there for her birth, stayed an extra day or so, but hadn't been back, a stretch of time filled with interminable agony for her--for my wife, not the baby.
It was Easter weekend, our son was off work, a great house was secured (Airbnb), our Iowa kids could come too--the stars were aligned perfectly. Thus, we went.
Couldn't have been sweeter. The weekend's wonder, the star of the show was little Livvie, who reminded us of what innocence looks like, sounds like, feels like. She is beginning to note the world around her, to appraise the strange animate beings clowning foolishly before her, beginning to laugh.
To call her a princess is to demean her. All weekend long, she reigned as queen with grace and beauty. She would enter the room, and all would rise.
Then again, I'm not to be trusted. I'm her grandfather.
Nothing was at war in that child's grandma last weekend. All was at peace.
This morning's thanks is a darling little chunk of squirming flesh who smiled her way into our hearts and cooed out songs we believed next thing to sacred.
Even though, truth be known, in my own threescore and ten, most of my Easters have been far more religious, none was so deeply celebrative of the holy blessing of brand new life.
That child's grandma is already planning her next trip.
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p.s. If you've got an extra twenty seconds, click here and see for yourself:
This is a precious post. Glad to hear all worked out for the visit.
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