Remnants

A tired, sad pink balloon hangs in the hall.

The toddler book that chirps sits all alone on the desk.

The sippy cups are clean, dry and stacked in the cupboard.

We so enjoyed our little sixteen month old granddaughter last weekend.

I want to remember her babbling. And her shoulder dance.

And I want to remember how she imitates us. When we were talking through the door to her Daddy as he packed, she, too babbled to the door. Too funny.

And what a trooper. The loud whistles, hoots, yelling and air horns at uncle's graduation did not scare her. She so got into the clapping. And while other babies howled during the abysmal speeches, she was entertained by the contents of my niece's purse and antics of animated cousins.

I want to remember a little girl falling asleep in my arms. A little girl with wispy hair and fingers entwined in her favorite pink crocheted blanket.

When this little girl's Daddy was graduating from high school, my sister's little blonde daughter toddled around. Now that very same girl is almost ten years old, and hauled around our granddaughter or my brother's youngest little boy.

Four generations attended. Twenty of us? Wall to wall relatives, and stories, and laughter. And amazing growth and changes at our last hurrah. Some I had not seen since our 99 year old grandpa's funeral last August. And I doubt we will all be together again until the next graduation and commissioning...next May and June and August !

I think I will leave the little handprint on the mirror and where she gave the baby in the mirror a kiss...