Double Boyfriends

 

Buddhists, philosophers and scientists alike all concur— the only constant is change. The other day, a Facebook memory came up of my 4-year-old granddaughter Zadie singing Skinnamarink a Dinky-Dink to her 4-month-old brother Malik and I defy you to find a more precious clip. (Of course you can, but maybe not— her in-tune singing and exquisite expressive motions singing a lullaby of love is pretty hard to top!). Don’t we want to just wrap kids up in that time-bubble and keep them there forever? That is, until we remember 4-year-olds also throwing tantrums and insisting they have to wear the pink dress or nothing! and spilling milk again all over the table. Then we can’t wait for them to grow up!

 

But here she is now, a 15-year-old in just 2 short months, getting up at 5:30 am so she has two hours to put on make-up and do her hair before bussing to high school and once her birthday hits, signing up for Driver’s Ed. And most remarkable of all, I flew in last night while she was at a homecoming dance and when she got back home and greeted me with a warm hug, she took me by the hand and said, “I want you to meet my boyfriend.”

 

Heavens to Betsy! First off, I was so touched she wanted to introduce us rather than hide me away but was also astonished when she told me they’ve been “together” (whatever that means) since June! He looked me in the eye, gave me a firm handshake and endured my two-minutes of small talk with unfeigned politeness and then had to go, as his ride awaited. Nothing could have prepared me for the moment when that innocent lullaby-singer would cross the line into womanhood, first physically and now emotionally. A moment that would be ritually and communally celebrated in much of the world but we poor “first-worlders” have to figure out on our own how to meet the occasion. What is my role here and what should I say? Remind her about safe-sex? Tell her she’s in for a lot of future heartbreak? Make sure he knows how to cook and wash dishes?

 

The next day, I wisely said nothing except, “Tell me whatever you’re comfortable telling me about him. What does he like to do? When did you meet? When do you get to see each other and what do you do? (in public, of course!)." And she happily offered some of that above information and then off we went to shop together and then go to her double-basketball game. (Her team won both games, she got to play about half the time, scored four baskets, made some good assists and rebounds and generally played well, though she gets exasperated when she misses a shot.)

 

Malik at 11 is still is marvelous self and I DO want to wrap him up and preserve him at this age before his voices changes, his eyes begin to roll, he reaches my height and finally beats me at basketball. He has a 5^th grade teacher he genuinely likes who genuinely likes him, cooks himself a mean eggs/bacon/toast breakfast and cleans up most of it, has a bank account of a few hundred dollars from proactively asking neighbors if they have any work—weeding, car wash, hauling and such. He’s living a fairly free-range childhood, taking off on his bike to his friends' houses in the neighborhood and just giving me an approximate time when he’ll probably come home. Tomorrow is his soccer game, so I’ll keep up my role as “soccer/basketball grandpa” because of course, every game has to be at least ten miles away. 

 

Technically, it’s a new world every day, if not every moment, but it’s these “first” moments that grab our attention and remind us that nothing stands still, all is in flux, each new stage to be celebrated is joined with a parallel loss to be somewhat mourned and that’s just the way things work down here on Planet Earth. With kids, we most lean toward celebrating the steps to more and more independence, with elders like myself, it’s a parade of loss as we have less and less independence, leaning on glasses, hearing aids, pills, canes or wheelchairs and eventually, caretakers. But again, the kids independence leads to dropping them off at their college dorm and returning to our empty house, so loss is fully present. And with the elders, if we live our lives well, the physical limitations come hand-in-hand, with the enlargement of our souls and completion of our character, so celebration of a different nature is in order. 

 

These my thoughts at the end of my first day up here in Portland caring for the grandkids while my daughter is on a work trip in Savannah, Georgia. Where she will also rendezvous with her new boyfriend. Are she and Zadie sharing their stories with each other and comparing notes? Now that would certainly be a new twist in their ever-shifting mother-daughter relationship!