66 years between them

 There were 66 years between them; her life just beginning, his like sand in an hourglass. He adored her as he did all his grandchildren, near and far. He remembers, as if yesterday, his first grandson, now 21, stealing a part of his heart he had never known. As years passed, more blessings and love arrived with every newborn.

Decades of birthdays and holidays, and hundreds of memories filling his days with special moments, stolen hugs and kisses, and rare moments lying on the floor with coloring books and stickers. It took her a while to warm up to him, but it wasn't his first rodeo, and he knew if he just waited long enough, she'd ask him if he was staying for dinner or going to her school, as she was receiving an award, and would he let her ride with him and stop for a treat?

It never ceased to amaze him the wonders of a child's life as they began to absorb the world around them, wanting answers to countless questions, like where the stars come from or how fish breathe underwater. Their growing minds are starved for knowledge, and they will go to great lengths for answers.

Rides home from school with her brother and endless chatter about who's her friend and who isn't, one sentence spoken with another close behind as her little mind must speak when the thought is there, lest she forget it. Her older brother, now a teen, sits beside her, doting on her and, with great kindness, always answering her questions, no matter how many times she asks. It wouldn't be a proper ride home without stopping at the food mart for a treat, which always meant several trips around the store for a snack and a drink of her favorite juice, while her brother tried to help her select the right treat with patience for his baby sister.

Five minutes of silence as snacks are eaten, and then the questions come back in doubletime. Will you stay with me until mommy gets home? Will you stay for dinner with us? Can we color together? Can we play with my dolls and put makeup on them? So I put on my grandpa hat and wear a cardboard crown left over from a trip to Burger King. She picks out the colored crayons, leaving me with one green one and her with an entire box.

Time flies, and her mommy arrives home, tiny legs running to greet her with papers flying all over as she shows her what she and Poppi had colored. Poppies are green, but mine are all colors. Poppi is staying for dinner, right, Poppi? she asks. He smiles at his daughter, who knows all too well that her child never gives up when she wants something. So an extra plate is set at the table, the coloring books and stickers are put away, and you can bet your last dollar the conversation will be memorable.

Mike 2026