Busy, Hunt & Find, Why?

I dropped her and her boys off at the airport. The car was noisy. Screeching boys grabbing each other's heads. Yanking as best they could in spite of the restrictions of their seat belts. Pulling to the curb, my thoughts focus on getting luggage to the curb. Anything to push back the full blown dam of tears that want to gush. I grab each boy...youngest (inner thought--is he always looking for something to climb?), I pull him off the jersey wall and put a bear hug on him, "Grammy loves you so much."  Next, I find the oldest, (inner thought--this child is going to be taller than me in two more years and he'll soon be nine), trying not to be a mushy Grammy, "I love you so much and I'm going to miss you." And lastly, the middle boy, (inner thought, I want to savor the smell of this fresh boy hair), "I really, really love you so much, Grammy does." Then comes the hardest, hugging away my only daughter who is on the opposite coast. (Inner thoughts, we've come so far and I love this woman who shares my spiritual conversations and even truthful gripe sessions--yet we know our faith is steadfast; I miss her presence.) "I love you so much." It's enough because the dam is fragile.

I delay coming home. Manicure. Pedicure. Exchange items at store. Buy Legos at Toys R Us. (Because that's what is special about the visit with these three boys...new Lego sets to put together with Grammy.) Rationalization for buying them now: for the next time they come.

 Coming home, I go immediately into busyness. Changing sheets. Putting away the "take and migrate" items at the hands of the youngest. Then comes the hunt and find. What did they leave?

A Blanket lays on the breakfast table beside a half eaten piece of Nutella toast. The Spiderman technicolor ball of cloth is thrust to my nostrils. I suck in deep and long. Littliest boy. Not washing this for awhile. Into the hunt again. Triumph, the oldest's shirt. This will have to be mailed because it's a school shirt. I hold it up and gaze amazed. This first born of my daughter has opened up like a dry sponge plunged into water. I remember holding this boy as a few day old bundle and praying a blessing over him...this one who has left a shirt bearing a football helmet.

The day isn't over, perhaps the middle one has left something behind that will give Grammy a moment's pause at his specialness...hope is alive.






One more stop by the computer and check Flight Tracker. One more hour and they will be home. It's been almost four hours since my life started pushing back to my own normal as Juanita instead of Grammy. Quiet house. My own messes. The ticking away of time till they come again.

Glancing outside the window, I spy the red Solo cup on the dead stump by the driveway. Daughter sat it there while dodging boys & Grammy on bikes. I'll let it stay for a while...my daughter's hands were on this cup. Her fingerprints alone remain.

I have to say, it's time I let the dam break. Why? They just landed. The weather copies my mood. The thunder rolls and rain falls; I join in the pouring.