(Neil Young reference)
A friend of mine, a fellow cancer survivor, apparently had some time on her hands and created a marvelous desktop for me. Among the shooting stars, the wagons, the scooters, and all of that, there are three pictures of my grandson.
In one, he is dressed rather nicely, but strapped into a government-approved safety seat and sleeping. You can see the bruises on his face. If he was awake, and if he could talk, he would probably be saying, yeah, but you should see the other guy!
And she would probably agree.
But he looks rather gentlemanly, and in his sleep looks like a perfect angel.
Another of the pictures shows him screaming for all that his lungs can give. That is not the angel. But it is my boy. He will sing like grandpa did. And like his mom did, too!
The third is not the best, by any means, but it makes me smile every time I log in. He is smiling, all six or seven weeks worth of him, and I am telling you, he looks strong.
He IS strong. Last night, not for the first time, my daughter called, so that I could listen to Scooter while he was in a talkative mood. When I first came on, he was still talking, of course. When I started to respond, of course, he clammed up. As his mom said (she used to be Erin, but now she is Scooter’s mom :)) he was just staring at the phone, enamored of it, I guess.
Eventually, as I talked and sang, he began to speak. I cannot tell you that I had anything to do with that. It may be that they were tickling his feet or making faces or something. But from my end of the line, I can tell you that I talked and sang, and even sang him our special song, and he started to talk again. He tallked a LOT in fact. I am not quite sure what he was saying. I am still trying to figure that out. We will get there.
But he was talking to grandpa, to G-Pa (my new rap title).
I do not need a reason to live, but if I did, this would be a good one.
This would be a great one.