Putting my feet in the dirt 3-21-18
I had just woken up to the news about losing Stephen Hawking. For some reason it struck me as monumentally sad. I was washing my tears off in the bathroom sink when my grandson texted me. We seem to have a weird wavelength. He asked what I was doing and I answered my usual nothing. He said I’m coming over in ten.
Of course it was almost lunchtime but I was not in a fixing food mood. He came in and raided the freezer, which has slim to none pickings at the moment, and brought out some fish fillets. So fiddlesticks it was. Waiting for the oven to heat, we listened to a new percussion piece he’s doing for the orchestra. He plays all of the instruments, but loves the drums best.
Twelve thirty and he’s off to be a TA in another class. I have to admit I will miss him when he graduates in a couple of months, especially these surprise visits that always end with hugs and I love yous. Parents and grandparents have bittersweet times when children grow so fast. I’ve often said to frazzled parents of toddlers, time passes so fast, try to enjoy each moment.