I spent the day with my granddaughter. She reached for my knees. It reminded me of this Whisper that I published in May, 2013.

I saw her pirouetting around the room.
Sh was obviously trying to pass the time while her mother was shopping.
I almost envied her abandon.

She was wearing a twirly skirt, which she obviously loved to wear, as she danced.
She had rain boots on her feet, not the ballet slippers I would have imagined.
She was carefree, not yet affected by the whims of the world.

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Anything done with a toddler takes more time to accomplish.
A mother has to factor that extra time into her schedule.
A toddler wants to be a helper.
That word helper should be placed in quotation marks.

It is hard to predict how a toddler will act in a new situation.
It is sometimes hard to predict how a toddler will act in a familiar situation.
Even the best mother cannot say for sure which things might make her child afraid.
Things she thinks will be a problem are not; while things that should not be a problem, are.

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I remember ice skating when I was a girl.
I skated on a small lake with the family for whom I used to babysit.
I skated at an indoor rink as well.
I could never do fancy twists and turns, but I enjoyed ice skating all the same.

I used to love to roller skate.
I had the kind of skates that were metal and fit over my shoes.
The skates came with a key, which I used to tighten them if needed.
I wore the key around my neck on a string.

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Only a mother knows the tear, the silent one that falls,
Only a mother knows for sure, the reason for it all.

Only a mother knows the pain, and hand and hand, the joy.
Only a mother knows the kiss of her precious little boy.

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Every day, there is some sort of communication on our family thread.
News, check-ins, and funny stories someone saw or read are shared.
Often, when my phone is on silent, I will check it later to see that there are 20 texts.
A whole conversation happened while I was away from my phone.

Early morning is best, since everyone is likely to see the text in real time.
The other morning a text came that I cherish.
My children have nicknames for each other: their initial and part of our last name.
The baby my daughter-in-love is carrying is affectionately called, Baby B-Gall, after his daddy.

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My youngest daughter sent a text to the family.
She joyfully announced that she had taken her last college exam.
In a little over a week, she will be graduated.
In a little over a week, a new chapter begins.

Not just a new chapter for my daughter but for my husband as well.
He has put five children through college.
This is his last child to receive an undergraduate degree.
Each of them are so grateful to their dad for providing for them and making this possible.

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We have all said or heard the words.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care.
However, it was not stockings that were hung on the mantel.
This time, it was something much different.

This time, small clothespins held Onesies, hats, socks, and baby mittens.
This time we were all gathered to celebrate the upcoming birth of a baby.
Forty women came to our home for a baby shower.
It was a day to rejoice in anticipation.

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She was in front of me.
I could see that she had a large stroller.
It almost looked like a running stroller but I knew it was not.
I could see two little girls sitting in the front.

The mother had placed all of her items on the belt as it moved forward.
She was buying cute decorations for St. Patrick’s Day and Easter.
She was buying things that little girls would love.
There was another little girl standing next to the stroller.

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The text came through early in the morning.
It was sent on the family thread.
It was part of the ongoing conversation we use most days to stay connected.
Funny things, serious things, and accomplishments all find their way on the thread.

This text was very special.
This text consisted of two pictures.
The pictures were gray, grainy, and yet so incredibly beautiful.
It was the subject of the picture that took my breath away.

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I was down in the finished part of our basement.
I was putting something away.
I saw it tucked next to the sofa.
It was the cradle my husband made for one of our daughters.

My husband is an amazing woodworker.
Woodworking is a hobby that he loves.
He made our large farm table in the kitchen.
He made our armoire in the family room as an anniversary present many years ago.

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