February 10, 2009
This morning I took my almost-four-years-old grandson to school.
His parents are out of town and though he spent the night with his maternal grandparents they both leave for work very early. So, I had the honor of driving to their home at 4:30 AM and being on hand when Tyler awoke around 7:00.
He was very pleased to see me.
“Oh, yeah!”
Still wiping the sleep from his eyes he had suddenly remembered that I would be here for him this morning. He flashed a drowsy grin and ran to me, bare feet slapping the wood floor, his favorite soft baby blanket slung over one arm. His arms went up as mine went down and I lifted him high over my head. We hugged and smiled as is our habit and standard greeting.
I guess he thinks I’m sort of special.
At first, I just sat on the couch and held him on my lap, allowing him to wake up gently.
I don’t like brisk, lively beginnings to a day. I like slow, quiet starts and I think Tyler does, too. At least this morning he did. I held him in my big, bear-like grandpa arms and spoke to him softly.
“Did you sleep good?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you ready for a great day?”
“Yeah!”
We talked like that for maybe ten minutes, me asking leading questions designed to put him in a happy frame of mind, him responding affirmatively and with increasing animation. Finally, we decided it was time to get dressed and off to school with a stop at McDonald’s for breakfast.
And that’s the way my day began. No big deal and yet quite remarkable.
As I look back on nearly sixty years of life I am amazed at how little of it I remember with any degree of detail or certainty. I remember the big things but not much of the ordinary and that just makes sense, really.
On a cold, dazzling-bright February morning Tyler and I ate hotcakes and sausage at McDonald’s surrounded by old men in ballcaps sipping coffee and solving the world’s problems.
He’s not going to remember this.
I will never forget it.
It feels right and fitting that this is something you’ll remember forever. Tyler may not remember this particular morning out of many, but his grandpa is part of him now.