It Doesn’t Get Better

Just as I put the last piece of wood in the wood stove this morning, I looked out the window toward the road and noticed two little ski hats bobbing above the snow berm in front of my house.  It was my granddaughters who were enjoying a “snow day”  and out touring the neighborhood. (The temperature is 8 degrees.)  They turned into my driveway, came to the door and ask, “Do you need wood hauled grandma?”  This is life at its best.

They live two houses away from me, are the sweetest, funniest, most beautiful girls and have been a joy since their birth.  As babies they crawled around my floor, as toddlers were, well toddlers needing constant care and companionship, and have been a consistent presence in my life for almost fourteen years.  Ellie will be fourteen in March. We can only dream of how our little ones will merge their personalities and abilities into the different phases of their lives, but never I could have known one day they’d come to my door asking if they could help me – haul wood.  They are two reasons I am not looking forward to my move away from my neighborhood, but then in six years or so they might be leaving too.

Granddaughters hauling wood for grandma
Granddaughters hauling wood for grandma
Blurry Ellie
Blurry Ellie
Hi Grandma
Hi Grandma

Less than an hour later my oldest son, plow and all, comes to blow out my driveway.  What a family!

My oldest son in his John Deere.
My oldest son in his John Deere.

6 thoughts on “It Doesn’t Get Better

  1. what a beautiful memory…put this your journal for future readings. r

    ?? Renne Brock



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