Your arms cradle a bundle of beating life covered in layers of freshly washed cotton and you are fully present in the moment and elsewhere at the same time because even though you are holding him so close you can feel his breath, you are transported to the ancestors just as the newly born becomes another branch on the Great Tree of Life.

No small thing, this.

I am just seven weeks into grandparenthood and already it’s a fiesta of feelings. Most warm my heart except for one, which tugs. I’ll get to that in a moment.

First, there’s just no getting around the fact that a grandchild is borne from those who came before. Family members who survived war or illness, left their family or countries and built new lives. Holding him transports me from the present tense across multiple countries and eras all at once. It’s the closest I can imagine to time traveling.

Second, this little guy is my joy, not my job. Parenthood was work. As I raised my daughters, I felt so invested in being a good mother that I wrote a mission statement about it. No other job demands the ongoing, on-call attention and concentration, twenty-four seven. Doctors and nurses have days off. Parents don’t, even when they do.

Third, my grandparent perch gives me a front row seat to watch my daughter and son-in-law transform into parents. And by extension, my love for him is three times as big.

Finally, I’m so much more relaxed in my grandparent role, that I can take in the small things. There’s more time and psychic space to stare into his eyes. Take in his expressions. Listen to the rhythm of his breath. Inhale his baby scent. Massage his feet.

Yet, my heart tugs with one loss: If you live out of state as I do, the biggest loss is time. While there will be visits, calls and videos, I won’t often be in the same room with him. And I am not so happy about that.

Though my time with him will have limits, I’d like to think that when we are together, I’ll bring my grateful, experienced, time-traveling-grandparent self along with the loving energy of his ancestors. Which is considerable. And hopefully, memorable.

Or at least this is what I tell myself in the moments when I pine for my sweet little Louie.

*Louie, Louie, Me gotta go are the opening lyrics to the song “Louie Louie” by Richard Berry.

For Reading & Resource

Grandparenthood makes a powerful writing prompt. Click here to read a poem I wrote in honor of Louie.

My memoir, Seven Springs, was published in the spring of 2021. But you may not be aware that in the summer of that same year, I recorded an audio book version. Curious? You can hear me reading the opening Prologue (2+ mins) here.

Are you a DIY-er? Maybe you aren’t a workshop type of person. Maybe you prefer working at your own pace, self-directed. If that’s the case, take a look at my writing guides for prompts, craft advice and inspiration.

Louie Louie, Me Gotta Go*

Sensational Sentences, Part Seven