Member-only story
“One kind word can warm 3 winter months.”
- Japanese proverb
My 10-year-old grandson doesn’t come over quite as often as he did when younger. What with friends, school, music lessons and sports, he keeps occupied. I think that a good thing.
He and I still share a special bond. I would sometimes jest that I was named for him. I could hardly conceal my delight when my daughter told me what he was to be named. It was quite unexpected.
He has 3 names (as do I): given, middle, surname.
I moved to the geographic area where his family lives when he was not yet 2. I decided if I was to be a part of his life (which I very much desired; he’s my only grandchild and, the way things look, that will likely remain the case), I would have to be in geographic proximity.
It was a gamble but, I thought, a comparatively safe one.
His mother, my daughter, has graciously allowed me access to him. I used to tend him, on occasion, at his home and he has also spent the night with me. We often leave the decision up to him where he wants to be.
She knows I value his life more than I do my own, so he’s safe with me.
In the early years of grade school, one of the subjects he studied was arithmetic.
