by Nanny Lowe
The flames with their mosaic of colors could be seen leaping and hopping, dancing and flickering, as if waiting for the opportune moment to escape the through the glass window of the stove door. The wood crackled and popped, warming the house and making the blizzard and freezing temperatures outside seem worlds away. My cat, my book, and me, could be found in our favorite spot, in the big stuffed chair in the corner of the glass encased sun-nook at the front of the house. From this vantage point I could see the little birds fighting for a spot on the feeders, and I could see the bay, but yet watch the flames reflecting in the window. This was just heavenly. The phone rang, and having forgotten to take it with me to my little corner I had to leave my cozy nest to answer the call. My daughter was calling from a place very far away, there were far too many miles between us. Like so many other young maritimers, my son and daughter had finished a good education and left to find work in their specific fields, to make their own way in the world. Both my offspring had been born and raised in Nova Scotia, but had a strong Newfoundland heritage, and much to our amusement both called Newfoundland their home. Both were working hard and making new friends. Heather, a real Nova Scotian girl, had met and married a young Newfoundland man, and they have an enchanting little girl in their lives now. Her name is Kylee Elizabeth and she is my first grand child. She is a bright, beautiful child with a mischievous smile and an independent spirit, like her mother before her.
While we talked Heather walked into Kylees’ room, telling me that she had slept for too long and needed to be wakened now. But lo and behold Miss Kylee was awake, quietly playing, content to do just that for now. Her mother picked her up, tried to get her to say ‘Nanny’ but, as children are, she would not do anything she didn’t want to do. She was sleepy still and wanted just to cuddle her mom.
I could visualize the scene so clearly. Her mother told Kylee she was so sweet when she woke, and I could imagine Kylee cuddled in her mothers’ arms, and my heart ached to be there. So very clearly I could see the moist curls on the back of her neck, her cheeks rosy, eyes sparkling, her little hands holding her favorite blanket. Heather then said the magic words that made my heart ache that much more.
"Oh, you smell so sweet, I love you so much!" she said softly. And I wanted to be there, to have time with them, to hold a little child fresh from their afternoon nap, to pick up that warm little body and have those tiny, but chubby, arms wrap around my neck, put a blanket over her and sit and rock her until she was fully awake.
The time immediately following a nap was always my favorite time with babies, the after nap ritual- the cuddling, and sweet tender moments when the child is not fully awake and enjoys the closeness of an adult. Nostalgia ran through me as I remembered my own baby siblings in my childhood days and then my own two children. I was taken aback at this strange feeling that had settled in my heart.
I just didn’t understand it, and I wasn’t prepared for it, although we had visited Kylee shortly after she was born, and I loved her long before her birth, this emotion was strong, unfamiliar, and all encompassing. Heather is a good Mom, Lance is a good Dad, there is absolutely no doubt about that.But what of me, am I a good grandmother? I haven’t walked this road before, what is expected of me, what role will be mine when I am so many miles away? I try to write Kylee a letter a month so she will have a collection of her grandmothers’ letters further along in her life, words that will tell her who I am, what I do, how I love her, and how I longed to be with her.
Many of my friends and co-workers were grandmothers, and I could see the obvious change in their demeanor when they talked of their grandchildren. They would tease me mercilessly, mainly because I said I wasn’t interested in ‘doing the grandmother thing’ and had said so often that I did not want to be called ‘Nanny’! Anything else but ‘Nanny’.
"Is that right now? We will see won’t we?" they would say.
Then along came Kylee and I am enraptured, I want to know what she is doing, if she is getting her bedtime story read to her nightly, getting interested in books, how is the bump on her head? I am sure her parents must be relieved at times that I am so far away I think to myself. But she is partly mine and partly Grammy Joans’ too. Both of us are living in Newfoundland and trying hard to be part of Kylees’ life.
I cannot teach her to sew, it’s an activity I cannot abide, but I can read to her for hours, I cannot play endless board games, but I can make great ‘play dough’ I was never much of a doll person but I love Teddy Bears and will fill her life with them. I cannot, and will not, ski downhill but I can take her on a skidoo or a four wheeler, or teach her to ride a bicycle. I cannot be bothered with trout fishing, but Poppy and I can take her out to see the little coves and bays around Newfoundland in our comfortable boat. I can’t, or won’t light a propane stove because even Nannies have fears, but I can teach her how to use a camera. I cannot come close to growing plants like her great grandmothers but I can show her where the biggest blueberries grow, and I cannot be with her every day, but I certainly can love her every day!
Yes, I am now a grandmother, became one at the age of fifty-one, and it is just glorious, even being called ‘Nanny’ is just fine with me.
A magical, fascinating, beautiful tiny enchantress has entered my life, and now I know of what they spoke. So to my darling Kylee, may you live a long and happy life filled with all the wonderful gifts that the Universe offers, just as you are a gift of joy the Universe has given me. I will love you until the rivers run still, and send you my love every day.
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