I only spent one night at Sally's before heading back to Duncan to see my grand son. I was looking forward to having the chance to spend lots of time with him and his parents. I had been out west for over three weeks and yet I had not seen a lot of them. I got to be with the cute little guy almost as much as I wanted.
For a variety of reasons both of his parents were busy for three days out of the 6 days I was there. I got to look after Cohen (all by myself) for 2 of those days. Pretty special times.
Being a granddad is ....I can't think of any other words for it than "pretty neat". While I have loved my kids and have enjoyed every minute (almost) of being a dad and I have to say it keeps on getting better and better with both of them, being a granddad is something special. I felt it the second my son-in-law in North Bay called to tell me about my granddaughter being born, I felt it just as strongly when my first grandson was born and it was no different with my grandson in BC. Being a granddad is pretty neat!!!! Perhaps the highlight (at least in terms of outings) of my babysitting activities was going to the parade in Duncan. I was excited. The kid was less so and other than liking the kids riding their bikes in the parade, I don't think he was all that impressed.
One of the great things that happened this summer was that I got to spend time with my daughter-in-laws parents. I have known her father for a few years but we had never really talked. This year we had lots of time to get to know each other. Her father was very generous and graceful in letting me spend more than my fair share of time with the kid. He and I got a long just fine which feels pretty good. I will be always grateful that my daughter-in-law and her family have been so welcoming to me. It feels good, at least in some small way, to be part of another family.
When I wasn't with the kid, or talking to his parents I either read or else work on my new walking stick. This is the 4th stick that my son has given me. All of them have come apart in the middle so that I can travel with them. It has always seemed to me that the odds of me getting a ride while carrying a five foot stick were somewhat remote. This stick came from a cherry sapling and we had been working on it for the past three years. It had been cut down the first spring, dried over the winter, shaped a bit last summer to get rid of some of the curves and finally now I was carving it. A lot of work but it keeps my hands busy and my mind out of trouble.
I don't know what I will ever do with them. I don't need them to walk with (yet). But the four of them, along with some canes that I have carved rest in a corner of my kitchen. I walk by them ten times a day. Sometimes I reach out and touch one, marveling at how the wood showed me the pattern I was to carve, delighting in the colour and the texture of the wood. Sometimes, in the dark or when I am carrying something bulky I knock them all down, where they clatter on the floor like some malformed bowling pins. But even then I smile because they remind of a trip out west, or of a journey or of a place that I have been. Perhaps that is what the sticks are for. Not to hold up this sometimes aging body, but rather to lift my spirits up and to hold them up high as I remember the people and the places that I have been, and the blessing that I have received.
For a variety of reasons both of his parents were busy for three days out of the 6 days I was there. I got to look after Cohen (all by myself) for 2 of those days. Pretty special times.
Being a granddad is ....I can't think of any other words for it than "pretty neat". While I have loved my kids and have enjoyed every minute (almost) of being a dad and I have to say it keeps on getting better and better with both of them, being a granddad is something special. I felt it the second my son-in-law in North Bay called to tell me about my granddaughter being born, I felt it just as strongly when my first grandson was born and it was no different with my grandson in BC. Being a granddad is pretty neat!!!! Perhaps the highlight (at least in terms of outings) of my babysitting activities was going to the parade in Duncan. I was excited. The kid was less so and other than liking the kids riding their bikes in the parade, I don't think he was all that impressed.
One of the great things that happened this summer was that I got to spend time with my daughter-in-laws parents. I have known her father for a few years but we had never really talked. This year we had lots of time to get to know each other. Her father was very generous and graceful in letting me spend more than my fair share of time with the kid. He and I got a long just fine which feels pretty good. I will be always grateful that my daughter-in-law and her family have been so welcoming to me. It feels good, at least in some small way, to be part of another family.
When I wasn't with the kid, or talking to his parents I either read or else work on my new walking stick. This is the 4th stick that my son has given me. All of them have come apart in the middle so that I can travel with them. It has always seemed to me that the odds of me getting a ride while carrying a five foot stick were somewhat remote. This stick came from a cherry sapling and we had been working on it for the past three years. It had been cut down the first spring, dried over the winter, shaped a bit last summer to get rid of some of the curves and finally now I was carving it. A lot of work but it keeps my hands busy and my mind out of trouble.
I don't know what I will ever do with them. I don't need them to walk with (yet). But the four of them, along with some canes that I have carved rest in a corner of my kitchen. I walk by them ten times a day. Sometimes I reach out and touch one, marveling at how the wood showed me the pattern I was to carve, delighting in the colour and the texture of the wood. Sometimes, in the dark or when I am carrying something bulky I knock them all down, where they clatter on the floor like some malformed bowling pins. But even then I smile because they remind of a trip out west, or of a journey or of a place that I have been. Perhaps that is what the sticks are for. Not to hold up this sometimes aging body, but rather to lift my spirits up and to hold them up high as I remember the people and the places that I have been, and the blessing that I have received.
miss you so much!!!
ReplyDeletelove K