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Grandma’s Hands

Grandma’s Hands

We are finally back home from Louisville. As much as I love Louisville, this trip was different—not because we lost a family member but because of the relationship I saw develop. All last year we were still in the transition of moving back to Louisiana, so half our time was spent in Louisville and half in Louisiana. Anytime we were in Louisville, we stayed at D.H.’s grandmother’s house.

Instantly, Boston was drawn to her. He would touch her aged face, run his fingers through her grey curls, and stare into her wise eyes. They had something special, just like his daddy and Grandma. Dustin has ALWAYS been a “Grandma’s Boy.”

When we got there this time, Boston was a little feverish. He was teething and not interested in playing with his cousins. Then Grandma walked in ... suddenly his fever started to subside. He ran and reached up for her. It had been seven months since we had last seen her and he still knew. He touched her face, ran his fingers through her hair, and stared intently into her eyes. My heart completely melted seeing my one-year-old and this beautiful eighty-three-year-old woman share something so special.

It came time for us to leave and we all cried not knowing the next time we would see everyone ... especially Grandma. She held Dustin tight and I think Boston even tighter. As she gave me a squeeze, she said, “Now call me when you all make it home. And Jen ... don’t you be Twitterin’ me!”


Gotta love her ... I know my Boston certainly does.


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