Homebodies - No higher praise

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Published on Sunday, May 17, 2015

By Rita Friesen

A soft, sticky hand slid into mine. The little fingers entwined, as best as possible, with mine. “Great gran, will you come play in the sand playground with me?” The four year old had not been sent, nor coerced to ask me to come and play. He only sees me once or twice a year, but is always open and loving. 

As we headed out the door, the crowd grew. Grandma took the hand of the younger brother and mentioned there was a bigger, interesting playground not far away, and so with the children’s mother joining, four generations of Friesens started for the freedom of playtime. Must of looked appealing, two grandsons and a granddaughter joined us as well. As we crossed the bridge, stopping to watch the water gurgling and swirling far below us, we adults were admonished to be very careful. And we were.

I don’t take as much time to play as I used to. I miss playing with little people. And so I climbed to the top of the hill, ran back down and watched my great grand learn how to roll down the hill. One structure involved seats and a steering wheel. I did not get to drive. I was carefully buckled in and began the ride of my life. The brakes failed, the road twisted and turned! There was a screeching of wheels, and a play by play of the scary ride. He is very articulate. 

Witnessing our joy, another child joined us, and over the rattle of the still stationary ride, I learned of the miracles of the imagination. Our new young friend was a super ninja! The power in his little finger was phenomenal, his feats of cunning and strength unbelievable, but then again, his dad is Mr. Power and everything is possible.

Our absence left an empty hole in the home. The dad and granddad sauntered down the path. As the adults sat and chatted the boys and I swung, slid and monkey barred. And then they spotted a heap of snow, unthawed under a cover of dried leaves and grass. And, yes, an inter-generational snowball fight ensued. This was one activity that great gran avoided, my aim just isn’t that good! 

As we straggled home, the conversation turned to times past. The family trips, the sleep-overs, the cousins fun. We spoke of the wonder and beauty of multi-generations playing together, the strength that young child gain from being a part of a loving family. We spoke of grandparents and one grandchild expressed concern for kids when their grandparents couldn’t keep up with them. Another one looked at me, remembered some of the cousins antics and ploys and stated, “You never kept up with us, grandma, you led us!”. No higher praise.