It’s January 6 and some of the grandkids are still here.
Things so forgotten from when mine were tykes come to the forefront.
The little tuft of hair as I rock the tired babe who woke up due to wetness.
Last night, I chose the privilege of changing the diaper and the soggy double layers of pajamas – in the wee hours of the morning.
How did those times so quickly pass and bring me to this stage with hoary head?
I recall the exhaustion of my time as a young mom, feeling so blessed to do this task now.
Whimpers in the night echo, beckoning me to put the blanket back on or pacifier back in mouth.
Morning comes. Soft whimpers change to exuberant cries for refreshment.
Breakfast – what will it be?
The shiny green watermelon that caught my eye at the store disappoints with its soggy texture and dull taste.
Oatmeal, steamy warm, yogurt; cheerios dance to the floor awaiting the broom or perhaps the tot, later, looking for a quick snack.
Later, the multicolored letter blocks appear.
The mama of the tots reminisces of times past when she so gleefully stacked them.
Yet it seems like yesterday we brought the blocks home.
Now, Oma me watches the newest blockbuilder, stacking, pushing, crying out with glee.
DeJaVu? Am I thinking I’ve done this all before? How? When? It clicks, poignantly and plain. But how could this be? I feel as though I just completed high school.
Mind races…There I am a toddler, crawling upstairs with my bottle, made of glass.
Over 5 decades have passed. On the ceramic honeycomb floor, the bottle breaks. Papa comes. My finger’s bleeding. And it hits me, hourglass of time has sifted, decades have passed.