Dylan is 9. He is an uber athlete, killer on any baseball field or basketball court. He’s in a gifted math class, a finalist in his school’s Geography Bee, a rockin’ trumpet player in his school’s band, and his name has been on the Principal’s List more than once for all the right reasons. Although his big brother Jordan, has slept over at our home several times, this was the first time since babyhood that Dylan’s schedule had an open space that could have Nana and Poppy’s name on it. I was nervous.
How is it possible that a 9 year old could intimidate me? Would he get bored? Would he compare the outrageous time his brother had with what could possibly be his most lackluster weekend ever? We hadn’t really been alone for years, the comfort of his family and two other brothers muffled any kind of intimacy. And, I remember for always, how Dylan loves to talk incessantly. His questions and comments are a continual flow of animated discovery. His aliveness never takes a rest.
Dylan arrived with sleeping bag and trumpet in tow. I used to think his proverbial baseball cap was permanently attached, but when I ran my fingers through his thick blondish, brownish mane, I asked him, as a personal favor to me, if I could look at it and touch it all day long. I was brought to tears when I noticed his freckled nose was just like mine…when did that happen? His small frame stayed in movement like a hummingbird, flitting from one activity to another, exhausting every corner of our home in just thirty minutes, so unlike his own with anti-boredom piles of toys, trampoline, and Ruby, his golden retriever ever present.
The Universe was kind. I discovered the Event of all Events in a tiny blurb in the corner of Friday’s newspaper: the Phoenix Suns was hosting an Open Practice including such heroes as Steve Nash and Grant Hill! The Gorilla would be there,too, and, best of all, after the practice, fans can shoot hoops on the main court! Dylan would think his Nana and Poppy was even better than Santa Claus!
And, that he did! We waited in lines that went on for eternity…we stretched our arms as high as the heavens to catch the free tee shirts and autographed balls, and, yes, we almost caught one! And, shooting the hoops? Well, that got us points for life! We were in the last group of hundreds before us, so there was nooooooo time limit on the court. Dylan just kept on shooting, remembering to look up in the stands every now and then, making sure we were still there, cheering him on. And, yes, there we were, trying not to look at the time, trying not to look like we were ready for bed hours ago. Finally, with Dylan’s last shot that actually made it, we all knew this was the perfect ending to a glorious day. His face stayed aglow, his eyes ablaze on the light rail home, singing with the instant party of Christmas Carollers. We took a quick dip in our hot top, a guarantee for us that we all would sleep past 6am, Dylan nuzzling up to me with my continued marveling at his gorgeous hair and beautiful blue eyes. Like me, Dylan has two speeds: on and off, so before I lost him to Dreamland, he kissed me one more time, thanking me again and again, ‘for THE BEST day ever!’ We both slept with smiles that stayed right through our Sunday morning pancakes!
2 Comments
OMG! What a treat to read about your precious moments with Dylan. No doubt, there will be lots more from now. Sweetest story – keep ‘em coming.
You, too, Angela! Grandchildren are pure joy, and the older they get, the more individualized they become. You’ll see soon enough…