Hot Cocoa Blessings

Exhausted. Euphoric. Somewhat crippled. Grateful. At peace.

These are my emotions as I wait to board the plane at JFK, bound for the Southland and in a few days the Central Coast of California. I’ve been here for a little more than two weeks, camping in the living room with the Kwoks’ lively little ones, a large pup, a moody cat, the Cantonese-speaking in-laws, celebrating fourth and second birthdays, Thanksgiving and everyday irresistible moments like the appearance of Elf on the Shelf, dubbed Apple, cookie-making, nightly pregnant-daughter foot rubbing, singing K-Pop Demon Hunters songs and fully embracing all of the tear-producing moments of grandmahood. 

I’ve been taking photos in my mind hoping the images will snuggle under a comforter next to the fire and scald my tongue like the first sip of hot cocoa, so I never forget the wonder in the eyes of my grandbabies. Their voices. Their zeal. Their unfiltered expression of everything. Their belief.

At this age, five and under, kiddos believe in goodness and grace and magic and, being in their company makes me believe as well.  

I am a grandmother.

The almost oldest woman in the family.

I’m here. I’ve arrived. I’m the old person who doesn’t feel old but has the driver’s license to prove it. 

It is rather shocking this growing old business because it just kind of creeps up on you like what happens when preschoolers turn into teenagers. One day they’re little, the next moment Grandma’s in town and they’d rather be with their friends. It makes me sentimental; everything changes so fast, kids grow up in a week. But, as Bruce Hornsby sings, that’s just the way it is.

In the meantime I do my best to draw out the silliness in my too-cool-for-school Big Kid grandsons by ripping out my cringy harmonica when I pick them up from middle school or wearing a surfer girl blond wig, all to remind them not to take life too seriously. That’s my Mary Poppins Grandma Personna: Playful. Huggable. Up to mischief. Mapping out adventures. Having sweet conversations in-between Star Wars and chef-ing.

I love being a grandparent. It really is the reward people tell you about, the icing on the cake of life. 

Watching the Littles and the Big Kids transform into even more delightful beings both familiar and new, is that wink from God that all stages are precious, including my own.

So here’s to a safe flight and the next time. Thank you, New York City, and my East Coast family, for reminding me to toughen up and stop complaining about the cold and the rain and the threat of snow. It’s a Wonderful Life.