At three years old,
my granddaughter, Brookelyn,
is now old enough to write a letter
She laboriously drew all these trees and filled them up with apples.
It was to remind me of a walk we went on when I visited in September.
It was a nature walk and we were picking up leaves,
admiring a huge snail,
playing with roly polies,
not to be confused with Roli-Polis,
and I thought I spotted an apple tree.
I was all excited and we talked about apples
and picking apples and eating apples.
I was on a roll.
Until my daughter, Jana, graciously pointed out that it was, actually,
an orange tree. Unripe oranges are green and look like apples,
when you refuse to wear your tacky reading glasses.
And, at three, Brookelyn can talk on the phone,
when she feels like it.
Sometimes, she doesn’t want to talk to Gwamma,
‘cuz she’s pwaying.
Although we chatted for 15 minutes,
I didn’t think to type it up until we were done.
I couldn’t remember enough of her precious jibberings.
Whatchu doin gramma?
Gwamma, guess what? Mommy is gunna’ hava BA BEEE!
Gwamma, ummm, Bubba got a big scwatch on him face.
Guess what, Gwamma? Mommy got fwowers.
Teigen’s mommy gived them to her.
Dere pink and white.
Gwamma…I got a big girl bed. It’s pink.
and the best line of all,
I wuv you Gwamma!
I love you, too, Brookie,
because you made a dream come true –
you made me a Gwamma.
When a child is born, so are grandmothers. ~Judith Levy