Jonas and Grammy

I apologized to my grandson for talking so much while teaching him to drive. I managed to fit the family history in between, “Slow down more before you take a corner,” and “I can’t believe my baby boy is driving me around!”
He made my day when he told me to keep talking. He said, “Grammy, your’s is the only voice that calms me and comforts me. You can never talk too much to me.”
Wow! I flashbacked to rocking him on a swing in the backyard. He was about six months old. I would sit beside him and talk to him. He would laugh every time the wind blew the leaves over his head. He would stare at each leaf as if it was a wonderful creation. I told him he was my wild Indian boy, because he loved the wind and the trees and because he has Cherokee and Creek blood running through his veins.
Today, I looked at my handsome grandson behind the steering wheel, balancing at the edge of becoming a man, and I was so proud of him.
I remembered every hug that we had ever exchanged, and every good memory that we had created rose up to a conscious level.
I felt overwhelming gratitude because in the midst of the worst times, he and I had created memories of the best times.
And when he said my voice comforted and calmed him, to me it was proof that all the love I gave him did matter, and I was so grateful for every minute we have spent together.