Time's Fleet Feet

Nana, Papa Joe, and Pop Pop are lucky.  In the words of the great American 20th Century poet (and always tasty dinner) Meat Loaf, "two out of three ain't bad."  As we await the Class of 2020, for present purposes, 2/3 of our grandchildren - and by extension 2/3 of Joe's great-grandchildren through Margaret's branch of the family tree, live close enough to us that Margaret spends practically every day with them and Joe and I each see them at least one time a week.  

Children are elixir for the soul.  My three grandchildren certainly are.  I wish that geography did not reduce my interaction with Abigail to something less than a regular, weekly get-together.  It does.  She spends significantly less time in my company than Maggie and Cal do.  She spends no less time in my heart. 

My power trio are growing up so fast that Pop Pop has little doubt that by this time next year each of them shall be smarter than I am - presuming that is not already true.  Since the first of this year, Cal and Abigail each turned 18 months old.  Maggie?  My tip of the spear is rapidly approaching her third birthday, which is now less than four months away.  

I know not how long I shall live, relative to these three, or the new additions arriving this year.  I know though, regardless of how much of each of their lives I live to see, I will have lived long enough to see them do great things.  They already do great things.  They each do the best possible thing.  They make this old curmudgeon's heart happy.  

More than that even, they routinely and effortlessly amaze me.  And I love each of them more than I can ever properly express.  Regardless of how big each grows and how fast each runs, Pop Pop's shoulder will always be there for each to lean on and I shall forever have each one's back.  

Where the hell else would I rather be?  

-AK