I became a grandmother nearly 14 years ago. What a joy it is to be "G-Lo" to three special young human beings. I fell in love with each of them the minute they were first placed in my arms. I started taking pictures of them at just about the same time.
They and their parents have been visiting us the past couple of weeks. While I don't make as many pictures of them as I used to, I did manage to add a few new ones to the collection. That caused me to revisit those I've made over all these years. I've selected some of my favorites to share here on my blog this week.
Before I dive into those images, though, I'd like to share a poem written by the middle grandchild (age 11) in response to Bronwyn's poem that I posted last week. The visual of the wet socks made an impression on her.
Jamison Square
At the fountain I see a woman.
She pushes her shopping cart over to where we are leaping from stone to stone over make-believe lava.
The woman lays two pairs of damp green knee socks beside her to dry in the afternoon sun, though she knows that it won’t be long until the next morning rain creeps into her ragged tent to soak them again, along with the rest of her few—but precious—belongings.
This done, she leans over to wash her wavy gray hair and let the laughter of nearby children carry her troubles away,
down
the
drain.
