I Cried Today - Memories of a Towheaded Baby

I cried today, and it was over nothing really.

My fourteen-month-old grandson and I sat inside the front door watching cars go by.  Each time one passed he would smile with excitement and say something unintelligible in his sweet baby language.  I watched him, taking in the sound of his voice and the blueness of his eyes.  Then I noticed his hair and how curly it’s gotten recently, and I remembered my own towheaded baby whose cottony curls attracted everyone’s attention.

That baby, who is now this baby’s father, stole my heart with the same beautiful baby blues.  The baby who was always wanting to be cuddled.  The two-year-old who would crawl into the laundry basket pretending it was his crib and that he was a baby not realizing that he really was.

Now he’s a man.  The cottony white curls have been traded for coarse brown ones.  The blue iris of one eye has a black mark.  The result of a bizarre nerf gun injury.  The sweetness, the love of cuddling remains and is evident in the way he cuddles and kisses his own son.

While I know and acknowledge that he is a grown man, my heart still sees him as my sweet loving baby.  Watching my grandson, my arms ache to hold my baby again.  To kiss his head and whisper to him how precious he is.  Does he know?  Did I love him well?  If I could take back every impatient moment and cross word, I would do it now.  I would understand that the things that made me that way really weren’t that important.

Oh, to be able to undo every regret, but that isn’t possible.  We can only move forward and at the end of the day trust that the love that we gave really is enough to cover a multitude of short comings.  We can trust that when we look back, love really is what remains and sets everything right.

I wipe away my tears and hold my grandson close laughing at his joy, breathing in the moment thankful to have it.

Yes, I cried today, but it was over nothing. Really.