When I reflect upon the last three days, I smile with tired eyes and a laughing mouth. My husband and I had the privilege of hosting our granddaughter Dina, and I don’t know what to talk about first. It was a dream come true and something I’ve always wanted to do and had only imagined how wonderful it would be. But I really had no idea. Our daughter came to drop off Dina and to visit for a while. She brought along her two-year-old, who is something else entirely. Leah has these zees, round little cheeks that you want to kiss over and over. It was a delightful time that was enjoyed by all, but secretly, both seven-year-old Dina and I couldn’t wait until everyone left so our special time could begin.
Since I’m a
teacher by trade, I know that it’s always better to over-plan. Before our
granddaughter arrived on the scene, I had visited the dollar store and nosh
aisle at the supermarket. I had trips planned and was ready. As the days of
anticipation came to a close, I decided that I wanted the atmosphere to be a
calm one. I didn’t want it to feel like we were in an amusement park at every
moment, going from one exciting ride to another.
I wanted it to be
the way it always was when I visited my own grandmother. In those long-ago
days, my brother and I used to love the time we spent with our grandparents.
There were no toys to play with or art projects to do, but we never noticed that
anything was lacking. My grandmother spent time with us while she carried on
with her daily chores, whether we walked beside her to the grocery store or
took turns feeding the quarters into the washing machine in the basement of her
apartment building or figured out who got to push the buttons in the elevator.
Everything was an adventure to see from my small eyes.
I had big shoes to
fill when my granddaughter Dina came to visit, and I decided I would do my best
to recreate the happy atmosphere that I used to feel when being with my beloved
grandmother. I bought Dina good smelling markers, neon-colored crayons, construction
paper, a fancy pen, and a dry-erase board. It was wonderful watching her
imagination take over as she and my husband created beautiful cards to mail to
her family. Dina decided to use the dry erase board to send special notes to us
every day. We used brightly colored nail polish to paint wooden crafts. Then,
of course, Dina had the idea that I should paint her toes each of those
outlandish colors.
One day, we went
to the ice cream store after a trip to a pottery painting place. Another day we
went swimming and to the pizza store. Dina helped me prepare chicken cutlets
for one meal and happily washed the dishes after another. We laughed as the
soap suds rose high to the top of the sink. And while she was splashing about,
my mind wandered back again to my grandmother’s apartment on Riverside Drive in
New York City, and I remembered the immense pride I felt when my grandmother
allowed me to wash her dishes and how she didn’t rewash any of what my young
hands had done. I was determined to emulate my grandmother as I praised Dina’s
work. The dishes were left to dry as they were.
Our home had a
relaxed feel to it no matter what was going on. I loved going about my daily
chores while Dina was there. It was fun to be in the thick of things with her
or to listen to Dina and my husband’s laughter as they played a game of Sorry
while I did the laundry or made lunch. It was a happy place to be – a place of
endless giving and loving. Pure bliss.
All good things
must end, and by the last day, I was ready to take Dina home, and she was
starting to miss her mother. No one was sad, though, and we spent the day to
the fullest, whether folding and packing freshly washed clothing into her
little suitcase, choosing delicious snacks for the car ride home, or ordering a
new watch to be sent directly to Dina’s house.
Before leaving, we
turned up the music and decided to dance. It was a dance of joy and laughter
for us both, and for me it was a dance full of nachas in the truest and richest sense. There she was, this
wonderful granddaughter of my precious daughter, whom I love and adore and who
I remember was once seven-going-on-eight, like Dina. Back then, I had two
younger children and an older son. I was busy from morning until night keeping
house and home together. My love was strong and protective, but I was endlessly
preoccupied. And here I am now, enjoying the sweet taste of nachas that I guess comes with being a
grandmother. It’s a second chance, like my father used to say when he first
became a grandfather.
I know I’ll sleep
well tonight and look forward to a nice quiet Shabbos with just my husband and
me, but I also can’t wait until the next time when we can spend a few days with
one of our grandchildren. I would do it again in a heartbeat, and my face
breaks out into a wide smile as I picture the day when we will open our front
door and there on the doorstep will be one of our smiling grandchildren with a
suitcase by their side.
Zahava Hochberg
created the weekly column “Musings Through a Bifocal Lens” for the Monsey Mevaser newspaper. She also
created a new section for the paper called “The Silver Slant.” Zahava can be reached
at zahava.hochberg17@gmail.com
