The whole idea of it makes me feel much OLDER. Having a thirteen-year-old grandchild cinches it; now I must certainly act like the senior adult that I am, or am supposed to be. I have to make better decisions about my life, and on my choices of things that really matter. What am I saying? That is advice that would be better for my granddaughter, whose thirteenth birthday is today. Yes, once upon a time, a long while back, I turned from twelve to thirteen, and I remember it being a milestone of my life. Seemingly, all at once, I was expected to behave like a young lady, and no longer like a little girl.
I am sure that today my thirteen-year-old granddaughter feels much older than she did yesterday. She is now more responsible. She is a young lady and no longer a little girl, as I remember her. From this moment on she will need to ponder each and every decision that she makes. She will need to think about her choices of all the things that really matter, like friendships, family, life and God. Although it sounds burdensome, it is the way that life is for young women. Instead of thinking “what a burden,” young women think “what a joy to be a woman.”
I try and look back upon the days of my own childhood, but it is mostly forgotten. However, I remember a few fleeting moments of the arrival of my first grandchild, and of the joy she brought to her grandfather and me. When we first saw her, she was five months old, and we immediately carried her to Balboa for her first carousel ride. I remember her beautiful innocence at the age of three. By age five, she was considered a princess by her mother and father. At age ten she was an accomplished athlete, and by eleven her many other skills and talents were delightfully manifest to her world. Those days of her life were like the gentle rains from heaven, with each raindrop falling slowly to earth. Then, much too quickly, the drops turned into rivulets and flowed away, down to the River of No Return, never to be seen again. Those soft delicious raindrops exist now only in the memories of her loved ones who were with her then.
The gentle summer rain is over. Now we watch the morning sunrise, as it proclaims to the new adult: “This is the day of your responsibility. From now until life’s end, you leave your footprints in the sands of time. Tread carefully. Bid adieu to those carefree days of frollicking in my warm sunshine. That was yesterday. Today you are grown up, and in control of your own destiny.”
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