Conversation…with my four-year-old granddaughter

“Grammie! Mummy, Grammie’s here!”

Before I can undo my coat my granddaughter runs at me, arms outstretched.

“Grammie!”

I squat down and catch her as she throws herself at me.

“Grammie, I’m so happy to see you!”

“I’m so happy to see you, too!”

Little arms squeeze my neck. Smiling brown eyes look into mine. “I love you so much, Grammie.”

“I love you so much, too.”

“Are you going to sleep at my house?”

”Yes, I’m going to sleep at your house for three nights.”

A few minutes later and she’s perched on my knee, her arm wrapped behind my neck. “Can we play tomorrow?”

“We sure can.”

“And colour a picture?”

“Sure, we can do that.”

“Maybe we can go for a walk outside?”

“I’d like that. I brought my walking shoes, just in case.”

The voice of authority intrudes on our plans. “Okay, time for bed.”

“Not yet, Mummy.”

“Yes, now. I let you stay up late to see Grammie, but now you have to go to bed.” Mummy is insistent.

“Can Grammie read me a story first?”

“A story?”

“Come on, Mummy. Just one story?” I add my plea.

My daughter looks at me and pulls a face. “Okay, just one story”.

My granddaughter and I look at each other and laugh. “Thanks, Mummy,” we answer.

My daughter joins us on the couch and I open the book.

“Once upon a time…”

Once upon a time everything was right with the world and they lived happily ever after.

And it is. At least for these few precious moments.

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble

Conversations…with my mother, this year

“Ready to go Mum?”

“Yep.”

“Here, let me help you zip up your coat.”

“No, just leave it. I’ll be fine.”

“But look outside. It’s snowing. It’s freezing out.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll be cold. Let me zip up your coat.”

“I’m fine! Leave it!”

“Have you got a scarf?”

“I don’t need one.”

“What about that one you got last Christmas?”

“I’m fine.”

“Here’s your boots…”

”I’ve got my shoes on and they’ll do.”

“But, Mum, there’s at least three inches of snow on the ground!”

“They’ll do!”

“I’m glad you’ve got your gloves on, at least. Ok, I’ll just get my stuff on and we’ll head out.’

Worn out, frustrated and angry I head out with my mother. She shuffles down the hallway of the apartment. No dancing here, not with our bodies or our minds. No singing either. Just silence. This doesn’t feel right. It’s not fun. I don’t like it.

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble

Conversation…with my child

“Sweetie, come and look out the window. Look at all that snow!”

“Can we go and make a snowman?”

“Sure! Let’s get bundled up and find some carrots…”

“Mummy, what are the carrots for?”

“You’ll see.”

After a drink, a visit to the bathroom, putting on a sweater, finding all the outdoor clothes to bundle up in and struggling with snow pants we’re just about ready to go outside.

“Let Mummy help you with that zipper.”

“Thanks, Mummy. I’m going to be so warm.”

“Chin up! There we go. Okay, I’ll get my coat and boots on and we’re ready to go.’

“Don’t forget my scarf!”

Smiling and singing we practically dance as we head outside. Well, if you can call it dancing when you’re so bundled up in a snowsuit, hat, scarf, mitts and big boots that you can hardly move. But it was joyful dancing as far as we were concerned.

I loved being the mother of young children and playing with them. Colouring, making our own calendars, playing in the snow, tobogganing… Okay, maybe I was just extending my childhood. But, it felt right to spend time with them, to enjoy them.

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble

Conversations…

The Oxford Dictionary defines “conversation” as “an informal spoken exchange between two or more people”.

Most of us engage in conversation every day of our lives. We chat and yak, gossip and converse. We debate and parley, visit and talk. We hold gabfests and discussions.  We confabulate, dialogue and chitchat. We talk out of both sides of our mouths. And, some people never stop talking!

You would think with all the words we spew that there would be a lot of communication going on. But, is there? Do the words bounce around, like a pinball, after they leave our mouths? Or are they gratefully caught and examined? Do we carefully catch the precious words that come our way from those that love us? Do we listen and hear? Do we turn the words this way and that and get the real meaning sent to us via those sounds? Do I?

As a baby-boomer with years of exercising my ears I have no excuse. I should be a good listener.

Over the years I have heard the words of my mum and dad, brother and sister, aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents and they have heard mine. Sunday school teachers, ministers, club leaders and schoolteachers have commanded my attention, my questions and my answers. Friend and foe have assaulted my ears and I theirs. And then there are those I’ve worked with, strangers I’ve conversed with and others who have eavesdropped or just happened to be within listening distance of my spiels.

I’ve spoken words of anger and frustration and softly uttered words of love, encouragement, hope and comfort to my spouse and children. Now grandchildren await my words.

There are conversations I would like to change; others I would like to delete. But, we have no chance to call back our words. We must live with what we’ve said.

So, what words will I speak today? What conversations will I participate in? And how will I treat the words that are flung at me?

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble