magical grandchild

I'm at my desk which is an improvised affair of a solid old wooden door propped up by an old teak stack of drawers on one side and a black legal size two-drawer filing cabinet on the other. Tacked up on the wall in front of me are two Maya Angelo cards my daughters gave me recently, some dried roses, a yellow infant-sized ball cap inscribed with the logo for the Bowmanville zoo and a close-up painting (reminiscent of Georgia OKeefe) of a red Oriental poppy with a rough turquoise-painted frame. On the desk I have two photos of my Granddaughter at maybe 4 - 6 weeks of age, sleeping.

Watching a baby sleep has to be one of the most powerful magical moments one can experience. I cannot imagine anyone who is not affected by a contagion of profound peace that watching a sleeping baby can bring.

I remember the photo day. It took three adults to bring baby to photographer, change her, dress her...and then she fell into a sleep that could not be disturbed! No amount of tickling, calling, prodding could elicit open eyes or smiles from that sleeping baby!

Now, hard to imagine she is three years old, talking like a serious adult sometimes, interrupting conversations with her own stories to tell, growing taller. No longer a baby at all, she is, depending on her mood a big girl, or a little girl, rarely a baby. Sometimes she is gramma's cutie pie, sometimes an angel...always so very interesting to me.