Easter 2009

The door creaked and a sweet face, eyes dancing with anticipation, peered in to see if Grammaw and Popop were awake yet. I raised the covers and she slid quietly and joyfully in to cuddle. I asked in a whisper if she was the only one up and she nodded. The tv was on, as it comes on every day at 6:30 to the morning news, and we lay there quietly listening and watching the stories, Popop having gone back to quietly snoring beside us. "I think the Easter Bunny came," she whispered. "Oh really?" I asked. "How do you know?" "Because I peeked outside and saw one egg on the deck." And then, we lay there quietly some more. I was amazed at her patience, knowing that in my childhood home we would have run screaming through the rooms alerting the entire family.

We lay there some more. She was still as a mouse and her breathing slowed down and I thought, amazed, that she must have fallen asleep. I moved my head to peek at her face and her eyes popped open, dancing, looking at me. And then we heard the shower. "Oh, someone's up" I said. "It won't be long now!" And we giggled and squeezed each other.

And soon, we heard talking and moving about in the hall and the shower still running. So, I hopped up and dressed and went to make coffee, my cuddler cuddling in with her Popop. Incredibly, the other two grandmunchkins were up, seeing Easter Baskets sitting on the table where Mr. Bunny had left them (and the first up must have noticed and not said a word) and patiently waited as the grownups peeled out of bed, brushed their teeth, dressed, poured coffee, some showered.

I don't know how the kids stood it because my anticipation was raging inside me! And yet they waited. Danced around the floor, snuggled whatever parent was in the room. And finally it was time...and the hunt was not nearly as exciting as the hour of waiting had been. And my morning cuddler suddenly came upon a truth so painful for her young years. She sleuthed out the secret behind her childhood fantasy, and passed on to the next tween phase. She took it bravely, I think, though vibrating with the reality she was having to absorb. And it took her 45 minutes to ask the next question. Her parents were amazing, enlisting her to help with the younger ones and gracefully leading her into the next realm - of helping to create the joy and taking joy in that creation.

I took her for a ride in the golf cart and let her drive. And she showed signs of accepting her new "womanhood". And my heart cries for her lost innocence, all the while knowing that she is just beginning to taste the fruits of successful growing. I am so proud of her, of the love she possesses and shares with all of us, so gracefully, so happily. I thrill to see her shining intelligence and love of learning and the special privilege of her love for me. Can anyone ever feel unloved when one such as this loves you?