The Loves of My Life

This morning,  I pushed my granddaughter Zadie in a stroller through the park. The flowers were blooming, the bees were buzzing, the air was fragrant. She sang from her seat and I sang back. Every chance I got, I kissed her smooth cheek, the unwritten page of her life to come, and reminded her that I loved her.

This afternoon, I pushed my mother Florence in her wheelchair around the grounds of her Old Age Home. The flowers were blooming, the bees were buzzing, the air was fragrant. She commented in pithy one-liners from her seat and I sang to her. Every chance I got, I kissed her rough cheek, lined with her 92-year story, and reminded her that I loved her.

And then, I brought the two of them together and played piano while my Mom clapped and danced in her chair and Zadie clapped and twirled and jumped and rocked and ran around, to the utter delight of all present. My Mom kissed Zadie’s cheek and told her she loved her and we lifted Zadie up to return the favor (though not quite in her skillset yet at 18 months old). I believe they both understood each other perfectly. And so did I.