Every week it’s the same thing, and yet it always takes me by surprise.
Mondy: She arrives, this granddaughter of mine, full of stories of her weekend, adventures with her mom. Lately, we’re talking about skin color, her cocoa brownness being a thing that sets here apart in this Northern place where we have over one hundred shades of pale and ivory. Martin Luther King Jr. was brown like her, ‘and they killed him for his love’. She ruminates a bit, then settles into her week day home, with her Nana and Papa. She asks me what it feels like to be old. I answer, slower. Smarter. Creakier. This to her is a non answer, so she closes the door in the Warm Room and builds legos and universes on her own.
Tuesday: This is our night. She calls the shots as to what we do, then second guesses herself midway through whatever it is we’re doing. We finish, she takes a 15 hour bath, and then I read to her in the half light, answering her many questions like a veteran press representative.
Wednesday: My night to myself. Out in the world, doing me things. Hearing her shout ‘is that my Nana?’ when I walk in makes me smile. I still guard my time, but coming home to that piping soprano gets me afresh. Hearing her Papa read to her in the next room usually puts me to peacefulish sleep every time. I try to always make it home by story time.
Thursday: How can one small body have so many questions? Why is it so hard to get to school on time? What is she screaming about up there? Can she do anything for herself? Good god, she’s demanding. 2 chapters is my limit. She’s an energy vampire. Her bath settles her right down, and she’s talking about sleepovers and mom stuff and things they will do as she falls asleep.
Friday morning: I’m exhausted. Fridays are math test days, and she drags her cowboy booted feet getting ready. Thank god she idolizes her aunt. I do a signature, ‘nowayimgettingabrushthroughthat’ Auntie Bun, and she’s content. We chat on the way to school and I notice her smallness yet strongness, her love of all things sociable. Her beating heart, and her joys and fears all get out of my car and I am instantly bereft and I have to process it all the way to work. Such is love.