I didn’t know until yesterday just how much my younger granddaughter loved me.
She announced it as we were stretched out on the air mattress in the playroom.
“Gigi, I love you so much,” she said as she rolled closer. “I love you 168!”
“What?” I responded, “That’s a really big number.”
“I know, ” she giggled.
We were face to face close when she asked, “Do you have to go home? I think you should stay here forever.”
I always use my husband as an excuse that I can’t possibly stay forever. “I have to feed Pop.”
She rolled onto her back and sighed, “Oh Pop! Can’t he feed himself?”
I knew this was coming. Sooner or later she’d figure out that he has two hands and he can heat up something all by his big self. “My daddy can cook. Maybe he needs to teach Pop,” she reasoned.
“I really don’t want you to leave, ” she repeated, hoping this would change my mind. “It’s not the same without you. That’s why I love you one hundred an sixty-eight.” If I could bottle these moments, I’d be a very wealthy woman in my old age. I’d be surrounded with bottles of sweet memories.
Being an early riser has it’s benefits. While the house is quiet and the only noise is the dog snoring softly, I stared a their faces in the moonlight. They were my bookends and I was happily stuck in the middle with two of my very favorite little girls in the whole wide world..
Wasn’t it just yesterday that my daughter and her sister looked exactly the same? My older granddaughter stretched her arms above her head and sighed. She looks exactly like her mom at that age. She has the same temperment. If she loses at board game, she clears the table and the pieces fly. But this night she looks angelic.
I turn my head to peek at the younger one and she rolls closer and places her arm on my chest with a thud. As if she knows I’m watching her, she blinks at me. “I love you, Gigi.” She snuggles in closer and goes back to sleep.
A tear rolled into my ears as I whispered to each of them, “I love you two hundred.”