The first time I met my grandson was at the international arrivals waiting room at Kennedy airport. It was summer and the room was steamy, windows dirty, and the swinging doors hollered at me every time they swung open and closed. We waited, gramps and I, for a couple of hours.
I knew I'd know him from the videos my daughter took on their last trip to the orphanage, his tiny torso trying to sit up at five months' old, sky-blue eyes searching his new mom's face for an answer or instructions. But the videos and pictures were months old now, and five months had turned to eleven, and I was bursting to see how he had grown, if he had hair and whether he'd accept me or turn away.
The heavy double doors swung open with a push, no, more like a kick. My son-in-law barreled through looking travel-tired and wrinkled, from 18 hours on planes and trains, my grandson strapped to his torso in one of those baby-carriers, clinging to his dad's shirt. I flew up the exit ramp to meet them but they kept cruising down at me, so I stepped aside, let them pass and followed back down. My daughter caught up to us, and silently they sped to the airport exit doors, then stopped and turned around to look back at me and Gramps, as though they just realized we were there. Where's the car? my daughter asked. I didn't answer, I was mesmerized by the huge wide open saucers of blue staring at me and I say as softly as I could, "Hi sweetie, it's grandma" My grandson replied with the biggest, cheesiest, dimpliest, knowing smile. As if he wanted to say, course... I know that! What a moment in time I'll never forget. My kids were home and we were a family. Hallelujah!
My son-in-law looked down at his son and said to us, 'he just cried for eleven hours straight' and just shook his head, then kissed the head of his son, smiling back up at him.
" All of us have moments in out lives that test our courage. Taking children into a house with a white carpet is one of them."
Erma Bombeck
No comments:
Post a Comment