Grandpa's Arms

by

Patti Dickinson

Just the other day my daughter Elizabeth came over for a visit with her daughter, Piper. Elizabeth is eight months pregnant with our fourth grandchild.  Piper went over to the kitchen window and saw our newly hammered-to-the-tree birdhouse.  She walked over to my husband, Wood and said, "Birdhouse"?  He took her hand, arranged her poncho and took her outside.  I watched from the window.  They walked hand-in-hand out to the tree, and he stooped to pick her up to allow her to look inside the house.  Just a few solitary moments together outside.  A grandpa and his granddaughter.  

Gave me pause....watching this man of mine who I have shared thirty-four years of marriage and raised eight kids with.  I wonder how many times he has bent over and scooped a kid into his arms.  To swing in circles in his arms, to bandage a bloody knee, to read a story, to lull to sleep, to quiet a nightmare, to buckle into a carseat, to haul out of a restaurant when the behavior fell apart.  

Now he is polishing those rusty skills and reinventing himself as a grandfather.