I found out this week I’m going to have another little granddaughter.
Each of my other two have had such individual personalities, it’s hard to
imagine they even carry the same genetic suitcases. According to my daughter,
the newbie is following suit. Like her sisters, she is determined to blaze her
own trail.
I can’t help but wonder what she will look like. The oldest
is faerie-fair with eyes of jade set against the palest of skin and golden hair
that spins gold like cobwebs in the early morning sun. She believes in magic
and mermaids and Grammas who control the weather with a twitch of the nose.
Next came the little firecracker of the family: Her red curls
embracing a heart shaped face with a smile that hints of more than a little
devilry. When asked if she was being a good little girl, she confessed with what
seemed like more weight than any three year old could carry. “Actually, Gramma.
I’ve been mostly bad.” And then she giggled.And now there will be three.
Will the new one favor one or the other? What exactly has God packed in her little genetic suitcase? As I ponder these things, I can’t help but remember my own mother, sitting in a pottery class, surrounded by an array of daughters, granddaughters, great granddaughters. Loud laughter formed a parenthetic circle – a hug of creativity and joy dotted with smudged noses and splattered paint. She clapped her hands together gleefully at the chaos. “Just look!” she declared. “Look at what I started!”
Look at what you started, Mom. Just look at what you’ve done.
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