It
is astonishing how quickly I am putting plans in place once the word hurricane
is announced. Greg pleads that it is
much to early to pack up and head west, but the tug to see our grandson
pulls from deep inside of me. It has
been 6 weeks since we’ve witnessed his growth.
At 18 months, changes come weekly, and this hurricane is my excuse to see him.
As
I prepare the house for our exit, my ritual is to clear my refrigerator of
perishables, pack the vegetables and fruit that will travel. I share with my elderly neighbor anything she
may use because Miss Sarah rarely leaves her house for inclement weather. I check both of our yards for loose debris
and roll our bikes into our utility room.
My travel bags sit at the front door, but I am fidgety thinking of our
trip. I watch my phone and check for a
text from Greg about his company closure.
It arrives confirming the release of employees to evacuate. Greg plans to
come home mid-day to make our pilgrimage to the upstate, along with the other
thousands encouraged to evacuate. Our
house has survived for nearly a century and has weathered dozens of these storms with no major damage giving us hope everything will be ok.
South
Carolina's govenor reverses the interstate to accommodate the flood of Charlestonians driving
away from the onslaught of wind and water eminent within the next 24 hours. I feared our late departure meant hours and
hours in long lines, yet we made it in just twice the normal arrival time.
I press my face to the glass of
the French door off the deck of my son’s house. Our daughter in law is expecting us, but Hudson does not
know. He throws up his hand and covers
his heart with a big smile. As soon as I
step indoors, he reaches toward me.
“Uh…uh..”
he babbles.
“Nana
and Grandpa came to see you, Hudson.” as I scoop him up. He feels light as a feather.
He doesn’t hug my neck, but he points out my necklace. He has pulled on whatever I am wearing since
he was very little. I’ll take what
interest he has in his Nana because it calms my heart to hold him in my
arms. He embodies the love I have for
his Dad and Mom, and the hope for our future.
As watch them parent him, I know they cannot fully comprehend the
fleeting blessedness this time is for them. Every day Hudson is walking toward more
and more autonomy.
Years
ago, when my children were small I’d visit our family-owned assisted living
facility.
Sam,
a longtime resident and adopted family member, would talk to my kids and show
interest in what they were doing.
“Enjoy
these days, Denise, they are the best of your life.” Her remarked one afternoon.
“You
mean all the sleepless nights and not a minute to think? It has to get easier than this.”
“I
know you don’t believe it now, but remember I told you.”
His words came to my mind today as Grandpa held Hudson’s hand and walked the
driveway prior to the rain hitting. Together we watched the cars moving down the street.
He lifted his free hand saying, “This?
That?” We share all we imagine he is asking with his limited words.
This day started out with Hudson in his PJ’s in
his mother’s arms reaching toward me with outstretched arms, saying clearly, “Nana.” I gasped with wide eyes wondering
if what I heard was right. He
regularly says Dada and Mama, but I was blessed to hear Nana. My first grandchild saying my name for the
first time, this day will live in infamy in my heart as one of the top
treasured moments. After a day of
running after a toddler, I fall into bed knowing why parents of young children
need stamina and good knees. I wouldn’t
trade any of it for a minute. Hurricane
Florence is barreling toward our coast and I pray for the safety of our
Carolina. I will take this unexpected
visit gratefully. As the wind and rain begin
to howl outside, my heart is happy and content waiting for another repeat of the
name Nana.
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