Words Apart

Our oldest grandchild, Lucy, now seven, has learned to use the telephone and how to make calls on her own.  Much to our delight, she will get into a talking mood and dial us up every so often.  We hit the speaker phone key so as to avoid later recaps in which something invariably will be lost in translation.  It's so much better to have both of our hearts warmed at the same time and for us to know that Lucy knows she has a complete and enthralled audience where each and every word she speaks is important.
Lucy's topics of conversation run the gamut.  Sometimes, she's simply doing her busy mother a favor and conveying a piece of information about plans that are in the making.  After completing the assignment, she uses the opportunity to further her need to practice the skills that will carry her all too swiftly out of the world of the rounded edges of childhood into the sharp edges of young adulthood.  We hang on her every word now and we're so grateful to her for this time, knowing that it is the smallest of investments and that we are stepping further into our own land of edges, not as sharp.  Children see magic first because they look for it and with Lucy as our guide, we always manage to find magic in her words.

We seem to be moving away from the "Hey Nonni, guess what!" to more statements, observations of the world as seen by a seven year old.  I prefer this although I wonder if soon the little gasps of breath that always come before a sentence will fade as quickly as they appeared.  If ever I could describe the term "music to my ears", it would be in conveying the feeling that I get with every one of those hitched inhalations that preface the exciting sentences.

I started this post shortly after one of those treasured Saturday morning calls.  Gushy details about the family's week vacationing in Aruba were followed by an update on her little sister's "Circus Day" performance at her preschool, scheduled for the next afternoon.  We were waiting for that information and it was on her good counsel that our plans were made.  I somehow got interrupted while I was writing, something that I am going to try to avoid in the future, and when I returned to my unfinished work, I completely lost the memory of what I had intended to write.  I know that it was something profound, something that, in the crafting, would perhaps have been amusing for it was a final paragraph, a wrap up for what I had earlier stated; a good conclusion. But, I walked away and now, the words of my granddaughter are lost and I am having no luck in trying to find them.  She's moved on, of this I am sure.  The life of a seven year old is rapid-paced and she probably has many more words for my delight but I wish I could remember what it was that she said on that Saturday morning.

Today, I am going to make a little purchase.  No, not for myself.  Noting to aid my memory.  I have lots of scrap paper, pens and little notebooks around, plenty of places to jot down things I want to remember, if I take the time.  I am going to buy Lucy a little notebook and when I see her again, I am going to give it to her and make her promise that she will write down what I have told her so that one day, she will remember that I really did have a lot to say. I hope that it is music to her own ears.