A Monday Memory....

Though she doesn't realize it, my oldest granddaughter gave me an unexpected gift yesterday.

Thanks to modern technology, the Englishman and I have a video chat with our granddaughters and their mother on Sundays.  When she said goodbye at the end of our call, M told me that she was going to finish watching the program that was on the tv, then watch caillou.

The gift in that?

First, some background....

When M was about two and we still lived just a few streets away, the Englishman suggested we set up a regular weekly visit with M on Sundays.  I would walk down and collect her, then we would take our time strolling back to Grandmom's house. Hand in hand, M would chatter away, while I would point out various flowers, birds, and other objects of interest.

Upon arriving at our destination, basset hounds barking furiously in greeting us, Grandad would scoop M up and carry her into the kitchen.  Once quiet reigned again, she would ask to "get down" in order to seek out her favorite points of interest.

There was the dollhouse and the train set, located in the basement.  The stuffed toys and books in the living room.  Games on Grandmom's computer in her office.  M's favorite place of all, however, was the kitchen.

Sitting at the table together, we would create crafts for the holidays, color, or use play dough to make interesting figurines.  Sometimes we would bake or simply lean over the kitchen sink window inn order to catch a glimpse of the birds at the feeder.

Then lunch would be served.  According to M, Grandad makes the best grilled cheese sandwich in the world!  While dining, she would request the tv be turned on in order to watch cartoons.  I would happily oblige, but on the condition we watch caillou.  M was a little skeptical the first few times we watched the program, but soon it became our ritual. 

Which brings me to yesterday.  When M announced she would be watching our favorite cartoon, it warmed my heart to know that she remembers.

She remembers our visits, our routine, our sharing.  
For me, that is the treasured gift - that she remembers.