Grandchildren: A Poem

I watch you as you sleep

Nestled in the crook of my arm,

Floating on the sea of time,

Oblivious to harm.

I croon to you softly

An old sweet song

And hum the words I do not know

As you drift peacefully along.

The corners of your tiny mouth turn up

As I push back a wisp of gold,

And I breathe in the heady scent

That your innocence holds.

I’ve rocked all my babies

Many a mile in this old chair,

Its rockers now thin

From years of wear.

Now a new generation

To have and to hold,

No lullaby unsung,

No story untold.

A grandchild – an invaluable gift

Of love and hope for me.

For in this baby lying here,

My immortality.

What dreams will you have,

Little yellow-haired child?

Will you conquer the world

With a wish and a smile?

What footprints will you leave

On the boundless sands

Of native shores

Or distant lands?

Oh, little one,

Before you is all the time to do,

To grow, to discover –

That is my wish for you.

For my part,

I wish to be…

Long enough

For you to remember me.

One of the most important and satisfying roles in my life is that of “Nana.” I’m grandmother to eight beautiful grandchildren. My oldest grandchild is almost nine, and the youngest is eighteen months old. There are five boys and three girls. These children are a HUGE part of my life!

It’s ironic, really. I never wanted children, but after my first “accident,” I quickly realized what a blessing children are. I had three daughters, in all, and they’ve all grown into wonderful adults. Now, looking back, I realize how empty my life would have been without my daughters. God knew better than I how to enrich my existence. And now, a life without grandchildren is completely inconceivable. I thank God every day for my loving family.

Motherhood certainly has its ups and downs, and it’s not an easy job. As I rocked my children, however, the cares of the day all seemed to melt away. I think the gentle motion and the singing comforted me as much as it did them. And now I have the intense pleasure of rocking a “new crop.”

As I stated in my poem, I often think about the future as I rock the babies. I think about all the years ahead for the children, and I wonder what they might grow up to be and what they might accomplish in their lives. Like the old adage says, the world is their oyster. I feel that I will live on through these children, as my blood courses through their veins.

My mother was still alive when her first great-grandchildren were born. One of her biggest fears, as far as my grandchildren were concerned, was that she wouldn’t live long enough for them to be old enough to remember her. I completely understand her fear now. I sometimes worry about the same thing with my youngest grandchild, Brooklynn. What if I die before she’s three or four years old? Will they tell her about me? Would she ever understand how much I loved her?