Last night, I spent several hours with the sweetest gal on earth ... my only granddaughter. I've always heard other grandparents talk about how the love they feel for their grandchildren is so special and unique, but I never understood it until C.J. was born. In fact, I would say it's hard to even put into words the way my heart swells when I think of her, and there is no way on earth to describe the feeling I had last night when I first saw her and scooped her into my arms as she giggled. We played hide and seek, and when I would jump out from my hiding place and startle her, she would crack up laughing as she jumped into my arms. She got an extra big kick out of feeding me Cheerios, her little fingers insistent that I eat "more, Ghee, more." I marveled at a pile of rocks with her and held the stones she placed carefully in my hand. I watched as she played in the water during her bath, and I read her a long book before she snuggled in to sleep for the night. For all the fun things I did with her last night, though, the one thought that permeated my mind when I woke up this morning was how it felt as though my heart would simply burst when she would call out my name. Granted, she can't say it very well yet, but that doesn't matter even a little to me ... what matters is that she knows me ... she knows who I am even though she lives in Canada ... she called out my name as we played ... and I listened like I've never listened before.
As I made the 40-minute drive home from my daughter-in-law's parents' house last night, tears filled my eyes ... tears because my son's hugs seemed extra long and loving last night for some reason ... tears because they live so far away and I miss them so much ... tears because I knew that it wasn't only my granddaughter who was calling my name last night. I've spent a whole lot of time trying not to listen, you know ... trying not to listen to other people, trying not to listen to my own heart, trying not to listen to God. The truth is I've spent a lifetime trying not to listen because I've spent a lifetime trying not to be who I am. But last night ... last night, I knew that my days of running and not listening are over. My children love me, and my granddaughter loves me ... they love the real me, not the me I pretended to be for so many years ... and I love them so much that sometimes it feels as though my heart will explode.
It's been an eventful week for me, including being the subject of a column in The New York Times. It's about being the real me and talks about "that kind" of stuff. Also, an extra special guy friend of mine has been updating my speaking website, and it's a huge change ... a huge, gigantic, frightening, terrifying, but necessary change.
I think I'm beginning to open my ears and listen ... yep, I'm definitely beginning to listen. And maybe even open my eyes a little, too, and see what is truly important in life. Remember when I wrote about how my kids used to stand at the big window in the dining room of the house we lived in when they were young and watch for me to get home? I'll never forget those three sweet little faces pressed against the glass and how happy they were to see me when I turned into the driveway. Last night, my son was watching for me to arrive ... as I climbed out of my car, he came down the driveway ... smiling and happy as he wrapped his arms around me and said, "It's so good to see you, Mom ... I love you."
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