If Recliners Could Talk

Before the adventure--the horrific realities of hip replacement surgery, of leukemia AML diagnosis, of chemotherapy, My Annie and I sat in recliners in the TV room, each with a little grandson in our arms. I held Jack. Annie held Tommy.

Before Tommy's birth in May, we have a picture somewhere of grandma holding Jack and of Pop Pop holding our new English Bulldog pup Guido.

I loved that dog, but this is my favorite picture, because there is nothing like holding grandchildren. And the advantage you have as a grandparent is that you never sense the looming threat of teenage years approaching, because the moment is too far away, and you learned with your own children an important lesson: never wishing they were older. Each part of a child's life is so precious; it is the ultimate pleasure to enjoy every moment, watching things you were too busy to notice where your own children were this small. But a time will come when they might become arrogant like Pop Pop was at 18.

I hope they don't, but I will always love them any way. I know my Annie will. She loved me when I was arrogant, and she loves me at times when I still am.