Paean to my grandaughter
Devin...5 months old
Pitter-patter of small feet
On September 29, 1973 my first born child, a beautifully formed daughter, greeted the world the usual way...crying, and her own way....demanding to be fed as soon she was safely wrapped in a warm blanket. I had to deliver her myself since my superior, the doctor who owned the small hospital that I was working in at the time, was away. He joked, upon learning of the particulars of the birth, that he was very impressed with me because "you had the bumption (bumptious?) to push her in and now 9 months later, you have the gumption to pull her out." I remember feeling the cascading emotions of being a first time father, from nervous anticipation, to impervious wonder, to glorious elation, then at the thought of the difficult task ahead...lugubrious incapacitation.
This year all these feelings (except the zombie-like paralysis) came full circle when my daughter gave birth to a beautiful baby girl on April 18 . From the very first time that I saw Devin, safely wrapped in a warm blanket, sleeping soundly, and having not the slightest care in the world about being fed immediately, I knew that she would be a baby who could daunt and haunt at the same time. Over the past 5 months she has done so with the nerve and verve of a little girl who could ,and in fact, would (unhesitatingly) wrap me in her little fingers.
I can not wait for her to start walking so I can hear the pitter-patter of her feet coming from behind to surprise me with a hug. I can not wait for her to start talking, so I can hear her plead for another scoop of our favorite strawberry ice cream. I can not wait for her to lead me to wherever she wants to go because she knows my heart will be there for her. I can not wait for her to tell me that she loves me, because she knows that I will love her in return. I can not wait for her to let me be her best friend because, as best friend goes, she knows that I will, surely and securely, also be her guiding light.