The all-consuming love for my grandchildren never “grows up.” They mature in the blink of an eye, yet their tenacious grip on my heart persists incrementally. When each was born, a startling, purifying, protective love exploded my heart into a million tiny pieces and forever reconfigured it.

This summer is one of transition for my grands; two are off to college, two to highschool, and the youngest is now a teenager!

I see their unfolding lives like chapters in a favorite novel; I read it with a desperate hunger. My posture towards each grand alternates between hands clapping for their remarkable achievements and hands slapping away any impending, painful stumbles.

My fingers are ready to turn the pages of their stories while still devouring the words describing their current adventures. Yet, there’s still a part of one of those “million tiny pieces” of my heart wanting to stay hunkered down, clutching the sheltered familarity of their cocooned childhoods.

What intense love makes your heart break into a million tiny pieces?

Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children.


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