Tuesday, April 8, 2014

The Grands

                This past weekend I spent in Hoover Alabama with my oldest son and his family. The primary purpose for the trip was for me to paint a couple of murals on the walls of the boy’s bed rooms. In one room I painted a scene with a twisted tree on the edge of a bay with assorted lizards, water, a boat or two, a volcano and a light house. The other room had an assortment of clouds of varying sizes with an actual miniature basket ball goal in the middle of the wall. They seemed to really love what I did. Brayden asked his Dad, “How can papa just sit there on the floor and draw all that stuff out of his head?” Brayden thanked me so many times and kept saying how much he “loved it!” He didn’t know that for compliments like that from him I would have painted the entire asphalt surface of I-20 from Birmingham to Atlanta and never thought a thing about it, just for him. He melts my heart and the other three do as well. How blessed I feel having those children thinking I am special and telling me as much without any guile or deviousness. I never thought that I wanted children much less grand children but let me tell you they are all more special that I ever imagined. My sons and the grandchildren are special beyond imagination. To have this addendum to and from myself is immense beyond description. It is the only hope of life everlasting that I can envision, want or imagine.

                What can you say about grandchildren? They are so special in so many ways. Their sticky little fingers probe everything in sight. They miss nothing and their intellect is amazing. They hug and kiss you, run into your arms with enthusiasm that humbles you, just to be a part of it. They have no filters in their heads yet. Farts are very funny. The smallest is Brody, a little boy (three years old) who runs through the house with wild abandon and bounces up and down on his bed like a wild man totally naked, laughing and screaming. Not a thought about modesty or anything like that. A free spirit with a very old soul he plays with great determination and furor. They all three are perfectly handsome boys and with such distinct personalities and so different. Bricen, the middle child is a thoughtful and beautiful child. His hair in platinum and his eyes are as blue as the Caribbean. He is competitive in all things just like his daddy. He will do well in life. I am sure.

                The youngest child is a little girl called Brynn. She is only a few months old but has such a distinct presence about her. She hotly sleeps in your arms and glancing down at her you surprisingly realize she has been, for some time looking directly into your eyes, so quiet, so perfect and almost startling. She is placid when she wakes up and smiles with the least provocation. 

What a wonderful time I had with all six of them and I can honestly say they could not have treated me better.


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