My husband and I were late for a concert.
Our granddaughter, Abbie, assumed she was going with us. As we all left the restaurant we'd dined at that night, it became apparent to her that she would not accompany us -- her mother needed to get her home and ready for bed. In Abbie's four-year-old mind, going home wasn't an option. Neither was having me leave without her.
"I want my grandma!" she screamed.
I returned to her side, knelt down to give her a hug, and assured her I would see her again soon.
"I want my grandma," she persisted.
This time, her cries were accompanied by a lunge. As she threw her little body into my arms, she caught me off balance and I toppled backward. Sprawled on the sidewalk, I stared up into the blackness of the night and laughed.
It didn't matter I was laying prone on the side of a busy street amid dozens of gawking passers by. It didn't matter that there was a crying child on top of me. As Abbie clutched me tightly, all that mattered was the knowledge that she loved and needed me; a tender moment only a grandma can fully cherish.
Abbie, I love you too...