Turning Pages

The best grandparents

Where did the years go?

Little fingers wiggle,
Tickle my hands,
As I turn the pages
To “Goodnight Moon.”
A gurgle, a hiccup, a yawn;
The moon, just as swollen as the one on the page,
Rests, high outside the baby blue checked curtains,
Suggests a story be told.
Lights off, I kiss his forehead
That glows in the moonlight.

Little fingers point
To the scariest of all
As I turn the pages
Of “Where the Wild Things Are.”
His legs bounce until
They can’t be stopped,
And he jumps to the floor
To show me his wildest monster dance;
A roar, a growl, a giggle.
“The moon is turning me into a werewolf,”
He says.
“Ooh…you better run to dreamland
Where it’s safe.”
Lights off,
I kiss his forehead that peeks out
From under a Cookie Monster quilt.

He balances the book
On bent knees,
Tucked toward his chest,
And turns the pages of
“The Graduation of Jake Moon.”
As I listen to him read,
We laugh at the funny scenes
We can see like a film;
He laughs as I dab my watery eyes
At the end of the chapter;

But it is a sad story
And deserves tears.
Lights off,
I kiss his forehead,
Hidden under too long bangs,
Like parting weeping willow branches.
Heavy eyelids beg to stay open,
But the room is dark
In the moon’s crescent light,
So I kiss his warm forehead,
Thankful for the moment.

Overnight, it seems,
Monster-size feet criss-cross
On the old oak coffee table
In between a monster-size glass of milk
And Oreos.
“The Outsiders” is open,
His favorite.  
The moon will sleep before my son,
So I sail blown kisses
Over the cover
And wish him goodnight.
Goodnight Son.

I save the books
That can’t be saved forever
To hold the moments
Before the end of days.


All your children will be taught by the Lord, and great shall be their peace.
Isaiah 54:13 NIV


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