It began several years ago. She was staying with me, Grams, during her momma's working hours back in 2016, beginning when she was only 2 months old, through her 4th birthday. Somewhere during that time, she became an adult with the freedom that only the very young have. The freedom to speak truth. I think the term, "Big Bootie Grams" has become a nickname now. But she says it very lovingly. 🤣
Our girl has always been a very observant tyke with very keen ears with which to hear. With all that youth pent up inside her, truthful words had a tendency to fill the atmosphere whenever we were together. Especially while chatting up a storm during our afternoon ritual of swinging and solving all of our little piece of the world's problems. "Our Time" was always a refreshing time of conversation because I knew truth (as seen through a toddlers eyes) would shine its light.
I do miss those afternoons of it being just she and I, watching nature being nature. Our feet would touch the sky as the challenges began between the very young and the not-so-young. We noticed the colors of the trees changing, the squirrels gathering nuts (and only God knows what else), the deer peeking through the wooded area just to the left of us, as birds sang their songs while flapping around in the water fountain. We shared secrets. We talked smack about Gramps and how much she loved him. We played "Tag! You're It!" We raked up mounds of freshly fallen leaves so we could run through them, just to hear the sounds they gave back to us and the universe. We examined the beauty of butterfly wings and when a white or yellow one appeared, we were sure they had come just to make us smile. On days when the heat index was a little much, we sat in our perspective swings, waiting for the breeze we knew would come suddenly. It was only a matter of time before the movement of angel wings came to cool us. We never lost those moments. We jumped from the swings and with arms stretched out from our sides, we lifted our heads and stood very still while it swirled around us. And play ensued.
We built tiny insect houses made of gathered sticks and leaves from the yard. Nor could any home be left without a flag waving on a pole, pushed deep into the earth for stabilization. We gathered sticks and piled them up just in case the tiny creatures needed a fire. Much of the time we would also leave directions along side the path (aka our driveway), to any such home available for residency. One day we even created a safe "Monkey Trap" so the monkeys wouldn't destroy the newly built home(s). Reagan's imagination took flight as we created very important structures for homeless insects.
There were days we spent mostly inside, as well. Those were times of so much laughter as we rose to the challenge of "Statue" creeping. In case you are wondering what in the world that is, it was a game we made up, just to pass the time of day. I would "go for a walk-about" and she would "stay where she was" until I got back. I just needed some time to think. As I began my journey, she would leave her place (quietly) and fall in behind me. Me: "What was that? I think someone must be following me." I would quickly turn to look, with eyes wide, to see who was there. But all I ever found was a really cute statue that looked soooo much like our girl, Reagan. They would be frozen in place and always different. Once I examined the "statue", I would make some comment about taking it home with me, or painting it, or laying it on the couch out of my way. Then I would move on, only to "hear another noise as if someone was following me." This game could go on indefinitely!
Another game she loved was "Ole!" This one had me holding a tea towel as I waved it around saying, "Ole!" That was what the "bull" was waiting for and then the charge was happening. She ran as fast as she could down the galley kitchen's floor, heading for the waving white flag. This is where pretend is needed, 'cause I didn't have a red towel. It didn't matter to her. We were having fun! She would try to grab the towel as she charged through it. If she could manage to catch it, as it flowed up over her head, she won. Then Grams had to be the bull. She got way too good at this game. 😂
The hours spent with "Snookums", as I called her (among other things 😂), will live on in my memories for which I will be eternally grateful. I have so many endearing moments captured in my heart from those years. Meg said I was helping her, by watching over Reagan while she worked. But truth be told, it was she who was helping me.
Big Bootie Grams, taking a stroll down memory lane, here you will find me...in Mary's World.
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