5:00 pm
There’s a knock, and we open the door to find Abuelo on the other side, suitcases in hand. “Abuelito!” yells Nathan. “Hola,” whispers Adam as he steps behind my leg. “Si, soy Abuelo,” he winks at me. My suegro has never loved being called a grandpa, always joking that tio had a nice ring to it. 5:30 pm The suitcase opens with a flurry and recuerdos are pulled out and passed out to each individual. “Son uniformes del mejor equipo de Espana!” Abuelo says with a flourish as he passes an Atletico Madrid soccer uniform to both boys. Nathan immediately strips to tug his on, while Adam, reserved, sits looking at his. “Pero no le gusta el fútbol?” Abuelo asks. “He’s just a little shy. Timido.” I say. 5:40 pm Adam leans close. “Nathan has socks,” he whispers in my ear. “Did mine come with medias too?” I nod my head and ask if he wants to put his on too. I’m met with the slightest of smiles. 5:47 pm “Papi, mira mis medias,” Adam says, showing off his socks. 6:17 pm I look through to the dining table and see my husband and his dad huddled together talking. If the last two years have taught us anything, it’s that you never know when you’ll see people again. I grab my phone and frame the picture. “Los muchachos también!” my suegro says, and I wonder how this will go. The boys are on the couch. He manages to squeeze between them, and Adam surprises us all with a smile. 6:30 pm Through dinner, he’s pretty silent, brown eyes taking it all in. Nathan doesn’t skip a beat and chatters through the whole meal. 7:20 pm I look over to see Nathan reading his self-authored book about polar bears to his abuelo. Adam has planted himself right at Abuelo’s elbow with an army of transformers on the couch cushions. He’s proudly modeling how to convert each one from emergency vehicle to battling bot. 7:30 pm Not surprisingly, my attempt to change sheets upstairs turns into a Mommy-and-the-older-boys event. “Hey, Nathan, could you go downstairs and ask Abuelo how many pillows he would like?” The question is lost on my oldest, who has his nose in a book. I look at my other option and give it a try. “Adam, mijo, do you want to ask Abuelo about pillows?” “Sure. I can do it,” he smiles and heads to the door. “Mommy, how do we dice pillows en espanol?” I smile. “Almohadas. But Papi’s downstairs if you forget. Just find out un, dos, o tres almohadas.” And he’s off. 7:42 “Abuelo, do you want to jugar conmigo?” I hear Adam venture. “Claro que si! Vamos, vamos,” comes the eager reply. I glance up and am met with a smile and an eyebrow raise from my suegro. As it has been since day one, with Adam, it’s just a question of time.
4 Comments
3/4/2022 03:55:13 pm
What a heartwarming series of moments. I loved watching Adam slowly warm to his abuelo, and my heart nearly burst for him when he asked how to say "pillows." What an act of love, to ask how to speak to someone in their language. I love how he knew that, how it was important to him. This whole thing is beautifully captured.
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3/4/2022 07:55:14 pm
Oh, Heidi, how precious is this! How wonderfully well-written. I loved that I could read most of the Spanish. (I'm trying to learn again; it's been a lot of years.) How precious to see Adam excited to play with his grandpa after just a couple of hours. At his young age two years without seeing his abuelito would really make a difference.
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I love how you lead us through the progression of Adam warming up to Abuelo through this series of vivid snapshots! The balance of dialogue and sensory imagery is just perfect for helping us feel like we're right there with you all. I especially loved the turning point of "Adam has planted himself right at Abuelo's elbow with his army of transformers". A precious slice! (I also have one super-outgoing and one slow-to-warm up kiddo, so I recognized them in this slice as well!)
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