Today, as a departure from my regular blog subjects, I celebrate a very special day.
Eight years ago my first grandchild, Henry Thomas Kennedy, was born, and even though he isn’t technically part of my “memories of a family farm,” he counts in the history. To the next generation – sons and daughters, nieces and nephews, cousins and the children of cousins, grandsons and granddaughters – we pass the torch. Thinking about this continuity comforts me as I try to ease into old age.
I was lucky to live close to my four grandparents. They were my “back-up plan.” I counted on them being there when my parents weren’t around. They made a difference in my life, and I try to make a difference in Henry’s life. I know for sure that he, and my other grandsons, and my step-granddaughter, make a huge difference in mine. They make me laugh, they keep me busy, and they put things in perspective.
Because of Henry I now think of cashews as “Rainbow Nuts.” A headache has become a “Head Feeling.” And any time I want to encourage someone, I say the words a four year old Henry said to me in the grocery store after I successfully poked the little straw into the carton of chocolate milk – “Good job, Gramie!!!”
I don’t know what my grandchildren will remember from our times together. They might think about the games of soccer we played in the house, the walks we took to the park, the melty ice cream we ate on a hot summer day, or the times I got irritated at them for this and that. I hope they’ll remember how very much I cared that they were brought into this world, that their parents and grandparents loved them unconditionally, and that we bragged about them and their accomplishments.
Happy, Happy Birthday Henry!!!
On Wednesday: Getting in the Ice