There was a lot of commotion here this afternoon.
Every family member was here.
The TV was on.
The baby fussed.
I was trying to trim my two-year-old granddaughter, Mavis’, hair in between also cooking dinner.
It got to a point where I was feeling overwhelmed.
It’s a small space, and I find myself being easily overstimulated lately,
so when Mavis announced,
“I want to go for a walk,” I told her to grab my shoes and I’d take her, which she did, very excitedly. I think everyone else noticed how I’d jumped at the chance.
We made it only a few steps up the road before she changed her mind, and said, actually, she’d rather go to her back yard to her “Secret Surprise Playground,”
which is really just a play structure we got off Marketplace and surprised her with one day after a nap.
We went through the gate.
She was in awe that I could open it.
(Every toddler loves a good latch and lever)
We walked through weeds and tall grass.
To the average eye this is just a plain old back yard, full of discarded toys and construction scraps.
To Mavis, this is something incredible.
She tugged excitedly on my hand.
We played out there alone.
I watched her climb the slide backwards.
It was just us,
the Magic of Grandparenting,
and a few wayward butterflies.
Then, she asked me to push her on her swing, and I put her in, as she quietly said,
“Grammy always says yes,” under her breath to her own self,
as if she was making a mental note, telling her own heart about it.
I secretly smiled.
She’s onto me.
As I pushed her back and forth, back and forth,
it felt like no one else on earth existed but us;
Like we could have just lived out there forever, picking up cool rocks, and making dandelion wishes.
The thick leaves rustled, and I looked around this place I’ve called home since I, too, was a girl.
The moment felt holy. Like I was being shown the ways I had been hemmed in.
The sky was the right kind of overcast.
“I love my Secret Surprise Playground,”
she said as I pushed her, looking around at her tiny kingdom.
“I know! It’s so fun!” I answered her.
“I can feel da breeze,” she said, almost like she was singing, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
“I can see da trees swaying,” she added, after popping them open.
I smiled at her, wondering what 2-year-old says, “swaying.”
I kept pushing, back and forth, as I thought about how much I love all the things she’s starting to notice. Back and forth, back and forth again;
But, then I saw she was just staring deeply at me, gaze fixed, with a slight smile of her own, like a person in love,
and then she took me off-guard when she said,
“I wish I always had you.”
Time stood still.
We were bound by the eyes.
Like, for a moment, one of the things she understood was that it wouldn’t always be this way forever. I would grow old, and the feel of my hand would one day be a memory. She would grow up, and leave that playground to another kid.
I hardly knew what to say back to her.
She had transported me to another world, almost.
To a place where the influence of women is never forgotten. To a place where someone else saw how I needed to be seen there.
In our little quiet cove of trees and garden beds and tipped over sand buckets,
It felt like her spirit was talking to my spirit.
Nothing in this world compares to being a grandparent to me.
I thought that having my own girls couldn’t be topped,
and it was amazing. It was everything I had dreamed about;
But,
then a little girl with a birthmark on her cheek took hold of my hand and led me to a
Secret Surprise place that was better than anything
I knew existed.
Heather Furr
Heather is the Colorful digital director of the Bob & Sheri Team, She helps out with our Video, Livestreams, Social Media, Tech issues, Podcasting and so much more! Heather is cat & lizard mom from North Carolina who whenever she's not fighting with the Facebook algorithm or bullying wordpress is probably gardening, reading or playing videogames!
