Try A Little Tenderness

We've come to a lovely place in our often stormy relationship here at Blog Central, She gave a little and I did too, and gradually and then suddenly things have become remarkably better. Our voices are softer and smiles come more easily. We hold each other more and our kisses are softer and more frequent. We don't seem to get as troubled by the little bumps or the times we're busy. There's more cooperation, more compliments, more acceptance. If she's busy with chores or I'm playing poker we still stay connected. There are little timeouts for an embrace or conversation. We seem to enjoy each more, and a lot of the tension and hurt is gone. I'm sure we will still have our days and moments and tests of wills, but the worst is over. We've decided to move on together, that we need and enjoy each other, and it feels nice. It feels like home.

Yesterday we visited baby Madilyne, six weeks old, looking pretty and pink in a blue outfit with yellow daisies. I sang to her and held her and read her two stories. Already she is smiling and responding to faces, and she seemed to enjoy reading time. Of course at this point she's enjoying being held and talked to, the love and attention and comfort that accompanies the storybook. She turns to look when people talk to her and her eyes follow her mother when she walks across the room. The life of a small baby is full of miracles and wonderful discoveries. It's been a great joy to us sharing in the first weeks of her life and her parents are very generous with her. Invariably when we come to visit Ashley will put her in our arms, obviously delighted by our delight in her baby girl.

Much of my life has been a waste and a disappointment, through no one's fault but my own. I had opportunities I squandered and gifts I never used, and I loved the people I was given to love imperfectly. My life was chaotic, often sad, too often self-destructive. I fought demons within myself, angry, unsettled, often without goals or a plan or a purpose. As a young man I was a fool, nervous and unprepared for the world, crippled and conflicted by my nightmare upbringing. But many people have done far better coming from far worse circumstances. Instead of being resilient or resourceful I hid behind shallow pretenses and vague distractions and obsessions. My thirties got here in an awful hurry. I kept repeating the same mistakes in new situations. I kept running. I never stayed anywhere for long. I quit jobs. I started arguments. I packed my bags and started over somewhere else.

My fifties came long before I expected. What a blur the time had been. I hadn't held on to anything. But in the last season of my life I was lucky enough to meet a woman strong enough to stand up to me and demand I stand my ground, and through luck and the passage of time I became a grandpa.

I was born to be a grandpa. All my best qualities have come out in grandpahood, and I've mellowed just enough to be ready for the role. The little ones seem to love my voice and my gentleness, arms strong enough to swing them and hold them and a lap that is always ready for a storybook or a cartoon movie. They readily sense the depth and genuineness in me, the gentleness that survived living in a thicket on Swan Island and parents who beat and humiliated me. My grandchildren know I would never hurt them. They know I see them as the most precious and delightful children in all the world. Exactly the way they should feel around their granda. It's the job of a lifetime, the joy that undoes all regret.

I'm looking forward to the unfolding of their lives, their accomplishments and discoveries and the sound of their laughter. Kourtney, Makenzie, Bryce, Ethan, Madilyne and Elizabeth are the cherry tootsie roll in the candy dish of life, and they make me so happy I made it to the last season of life. They make me happy to be an old man. I wouldn't trade places with anyone in the world.