Grandma to the Rescue!

An almost-neon-yellow bush caught my eye.

The street was filled with trees whose buds promised spring. Blooming buttercup flowers swayed in the breeze, brushing over the daylilies with their early emergence from the ground.

The days are longer. The nights don’t feel as wintry, even though I still haven’t surrendered my flannel sheets!

Nature is stirring, and so am I.

This was a couple weeks ago. The nanny was out sick for a week and my son asked if I could help with my two grandsons, ages 3 and 6. Of course I said yes. My suitcase was packed and in the car before we got off the phone.

It was a delightful week. I live hours away from my grandchildren. Visits are usually quick weekend adventures. Thanks to us all having more time together, I had the chance to know them better as individuals, not just “the boys.”

It was also a treat to have time with my son and his wife.

Counting Blessings

It was a good week, but before I left for home, I felt inspired to stop and count my blessings.

I got to spend time with my grandchildren. I got to spend time with my son. An absolute treasure during this busy time of his life.

To my surprise, there was another gift. Our time together gave me the opportunity to ease back into being around people.

My husband died right before I retired. Then COVID hit and the lockdown came. Social activities ceased, and the YMCA pool closed along with its daily water exercise class, my main connection with other people.

Zoom became an important link to the outside world. In the quiet of isolation my two published books emerged.

Then, even though the lockdown was over, the world seemed a little different. I was different too. I was always a bit of an extrovert, but I had grown too comfortable in my isolation.

Slowly, the world opened up again. The pool opened. Friends returned. Zoom remained an important link, but I realized that it was time to be back out around “real” people.

I thought that all I needed to do was plop myself into the middle of activity. However, the week with my grandchildren helped me realize there are steps to reintegration.

Leaving the Hermitage

First, I needed to acknowledge that there was something in my life that I outgrew. My time alone – I call it “the Hermitage” – was my refuge from the storms of life. It was here that I began healing from my husband’s death. It was here that I began writing. It was here in the quiet that I reflected and pieced together the quilt of my life.

Second, I realized that this type of reflection can be sad, silly, happy, and embarrassing, but ultimately, it is good.

In the process, I forgave myself for some poor decisions and released some grudges. I realized how they drained my psyche.

Somehow, letting go of these parts that dragged me down made what remained even sweeter.

I never gave in to my grief. I survived a tough time. I was ready to get back among people.

Reintegration can be slow and easy. I learned that it’s perfectly okay to listen to my body and soul, to go at an easy pace, a little bit at a time.

It will come as I’m ready and willing. I accept the changes in myself and others that come with learning to be with people again.

That week with my grandchildren was a first step. The heart of a child can lead the way if only we open ourselves and let them.

All I need now is a little more stamina and it’s coming. Like building muscles, all it needs is a little exercise.