This Good Day
By Belinda
I came home at the end of the day to the company of our two resident granddaughters.
Brenda and Paul were elsewhere tonight and the girls don't leave for their dad's until the morning, so the three of us had the house to ourselves.
The rhubarb is ready for its first picking. I mentioned this to Tori, who wanted to see. I told her, as I showed her which stalks were the perfect length and thickness, how I used to love to dip a stalk in sugar and eat it. Her eyes widened and wordlessly begged to try, so we plucked a perfect stalk; red, green, and tender. She wonderingly stroked the soft, pink end that had slipped from its green sheath with a tug and once inside her face puckered with delight at the sour taste bursting through the sweetness of the sugar she had dipped it into.
We talked about our day. The school that she and Tippy attend, Sir William Osler; (named after the famous physician who was born in Bond Head,) is celebrating its 50th anniversary tonight and their day was spent helping get the school ready.
Tori said they had to clean their classrooms because, "We have to show them that Sir William Osler did not go downhill."
Ever since I saw the sign outside the school advertising the anniversary, I have had a hard time reconciling the fact that this 50th anniversary means that the school opened in 1961. That year seems ridiculously recent to me.
Tori told me about the photos of old students on the wall, of the 60's, 70's, 80's and 90's, and said that her favourite was one of a child with a strange expression. I asked her if it was a girl or a boy. "A girl," she said, "I think; at least. they had long hair."
"Ah, the 60's," I thought.
Both she and Tippy asked me what the best part of my day had been. I told them that Grandma Susan and I had started the day on our knees in my office thanking God for something wonderful that happened. What it was is another story and not mine to tell here, but know that it is a miracle of God's goodness and there was no more adequate response than kneeling, eyes wet with tears, hand in hand and praising God.
After supper as the twilight lingered, we all went out for a walk around the village with Molson. They sprinted and tried long jumps while I hoped no one would trip and skin knees on concrete pavement, but kept from saying so. I wondered aloud when Tippy walked by my side, how her gift of art would be used when she grows up.
"I was thinking that this morning when I woke up and was drawing in my bedroom," she said, "I wondered what God was going to do with this gift he has given me."
And this grandmother smiled.
I came home at the end of the day to the company of our two resident granddaughters.
Brenda and Paul were elsewhere tonight and the girls don't leave for their dad's until the morning, so the three of us had the house to ourselves.
The rhubarb is ready for its first picking. I mentioned this to Tori, who wanted to see. I told her, as I showed her which stalks were the perfect length and thickness, how I used to love to dip a stalk in sugar and eat it. Her eyes widened and wordlessly begged to try, so we plucked a perfect stalk; red, green, and tender. She wonderingly stroked the soft, pink end that had slipped from its green sheath with a tug and once inside her face puckered with delight at the sour taste bursting through the sweetness of the sugar she had dipped it into.
We talked about our day. The school that she and Tippy attend, Sir William Osler; (named after the famous physician who was born in Bond Head,) is celebrating its 50th anniversary tonight and their day was spent helping get the school ready.
Tori said they had to clean their classrooms because, "We have to show them that Sir William Osler did not go downhill."
Ever since I saw the sign outside the school advertising the anniversary, I have had a hard time reconciling the fact that this 50th anniversary means that the school opened in 1961. That year seems ridiculously recent to me.
Tori told me about the photos of old students on the wall, of the 60's, 70's, 80's and 90's, and said that her favourite was one of a child with a strange expression. I asked her if it was a girl or a boy. "A girl," she said, "I think; at least. they had long hair."
"Ah, the 60's," I thought.
Both she and Tippy asked me what the best part of my day had been. I told them that Grandma Susan and I had started the day on our knees in my office thanking God for something wonderful that happened. What it was is another story and not mine to tell here, but know that it is a miracle of God's goodness and there was no more adequate response than kneeling, eyes wet with tears, hand in hand and praising God.
After supper as the twilight lingered, we all went out for a walk around the village with Molson. They sprinted and tried long jumps while I hoped no one would trip and skin knees on concrete pavement, but kept from saying so. I wondered aloud when Tippy walked by my side, how her gift of art would be used when she grows up.
"I was thinking that this morning when I woke up and was drawing in my bedroom," she said, "I wondered what God was going to do with this gift he has given me."
And this grandmother smiled.
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