Susan Writes

She snuggled in my arms – her eyes closed, hands clenched, knees drawn to her belly. A small bundle, asleep and still, and only two days old. A prayer of thankfulness surged through my thoughts.   She stretched. Arched her back, lifted her arms beside her head, and spread her fingers. The top of her head pushed against the crook of my elbow and her legs stretched to my other arm. She took a deep breath, yawned, fluttered her eyelids. Her black eyes, darted, as if to focus. “Hi, Little One,” I said. “Did you have a good nap?” She closed her eyes, made baby sounds – umm, heh – and wiggled her head until once again it was nestled in my arm. She drew up her knees and lay still again.

My youngest Grand. Now she’s two weeks old and I see her through the magic of long distance video. She’s growing already. In a few weeks when I’ll again fly halfway across country to visit her and her family, she’ll open her eyes more often. She might even listen.

Little One, you are blessed to have two big brothers. I laughed the day after you were born and you and Mommy were in the hospital. A big, husky deliveryman carried a new swivel rocking chair into your home and your brother (almost 4) said, “I’ve got a new baby sister.” “Whoa!” the deliveryman said, “that’s a big responsibility. You take care of her. That’s what big brothers do.” Because I had a big brother, I knew what he meant. I asked the deliveryman if he had a younger sister. “I sure do. Used to, she didn’t like me telling her what to do. But now she’s dating and she trusts me and we talk. She knows I’ve always got her back, no matter what happens.” And no matter how old you are or how tall you grow, you’ll always be little sister.

Your headful of black, straight hair is as dark as your mothers. You see, we grandparents and parents and aunts and uncle like to see ourselves in you. Like your dimple –that’s from your mother’s father. Your nose – your dad’s. Your long fingers – I claim those. You are unique. A combination of millions of genes that make you different from all of us, and yet like us.

Little One, you evened the score for Grands for Pop and me. Four boys. Four girls. I may not run as fast as I did when your oldest cousin was born almost ten years ago, but I’ll always have a lap and I’ll read to you. And I may not sew costumes for you as I did for your big girl cousins, but I will finish your baby quilt, I promise, real soon. Your picture album may not have as many pictures, but it will have pictures! And I love you just the same as I love your brothers and your cousins. Just the same.

Filed under: Grandchildren | Tagged: Grand, grandchild, youngest one |