This past weekend, my husband and I trekked to my parents’ house on an island in New Hampshire. My daughter, son-in-law, and grandson came up, too. My parents–G.G. ( for great grandmother) and Big G, collectively known as the Double Gs–had only met the Very Best Baby briefly, a year ago, when he was just a few months old and the world wasn’t in a pandemic lockdown.
Now a toddler, the fella is, well, busy. The Double Gs made an attempt at babyproofing their home. They were no match for this tiny explorer. He was everywhere, touching everything, determined to figure out how all the things work.
There were eight adults tasked with keeping up with him.
It wasn’t enough.
It was exhausting, but it was glorious.
There was something deep and powerful about having four generations of my people together . It felt like I was standing on a thin spot between the past and the future. It has left me grateful for what has been wrought into me by my ancestors, and at the same time hopeful for what is to come.
What is keeping you going this week?