August 30, 2019
“Ding dong, ding dong!” The quiet evening I was enjoying has just been shattered. The ringing of the doorbell in our house is usually indication that granddaughter Izzi is either coming or going. This time, she is coming. Linda left about an hour ago to pick her up from work; I stayed behind to finish splitting the wood I had chunked up earlier today from the dead trees a friend felled Saturday before we left on vacation. That being done, it was time to sit, read, and write. I did the first two and had started on the third when Izzi made her grand entry. Sister Jo was with her, but arrived with much less fanfare.
Neither had yet eaten, so Linda thawed some of her spaghetti sauce, cooked up the pasta, and had a healthy dinner ready for them in about a half hour. We sat at the kitchen table while they talked of their day and of their plans for tomorrow. Izzi had forgotten that the swim team was hosting a pancake breakfast fund raiser in the morning, and needed to be there early. Jo wasn’t eager to get up quite that early, seeing as she had been up since 6:00 am for a volleyball tournament.
Their spaghetti devoured, we were the recipients of their hugs and “love you’s before the whirlwind swept out the door, ringing the bell on the way, accompanied by her much more sedate sister. Linda took them both home while I finished writing. The entire episode was over in less than an hour. It’s all pretty normal for us, perhaps mundane, but a gift for which I am thankful tonight—grandkids near enough for us to be a part of their lives.
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