Too Big

(Most of the time) I believe I have to keep noticing beauty, joy and love in the small moments of my life, or else I’ll stop seeing them in our collapsing world.

Growing up is hard. Otherwise everyone would do it. ~Kim Harrison, author

I’m the grandparent who dismantles the family room couch to make forts and other structures for my grandson who’s loved doing this since he was a toddler. Inside the fort I read to him with a flashlight and tell stories with hand shadows.

Forts are also structures to be endlessly jumped on, demolished and rebuilt. Or we leave it open on either end to make a tunnel that we crawl through, run around and crawl through again and again. And again. A game of tag that eventually brings me to my crawling, running, and jumping limit, despite, Faster, Nana, faster!

The other day I made a fort with the big rectangular cushions and a blanket expecting the usual but he gathered his animals, a flashlight, more blankets, a musical toy, and a book. We made it cozy inside, but as I crawled in to join the fun, he half turned in my direction and said,

“Nana, you’re too big. You have to go out.”

And truthfully I did take up a lot of space. As I shimmied backwards and out he said, “Now you have to close it.”

So I plugged up the opening I had just exited with a big square pillow. No way back.

The great pleasure of playing with my grandson is totally forgetting the constraints of the real world. I fly off of cliffs, picnic with sharks and cheetahs, splash on beaches in the basement, and build couch cushion forts that make us invisible to the world.

But this time was different.

I was kneeling on the other side of the wall, and he was inside talking to the animals (though I still provided the voices).

We have more room! said Puppy. Sharky started jumping around trying to bite the others (as usual) but Cheetah, ever the alpha, cried, Stop! and everyone asked my grandson to tell them a story.

They went to sleep. I rigged a metal flashlight so it wouldn’t fall on anyone’s head in case they needed light in the middle of the night (sometimes Puppy is afraid of the dark). They woke up clamoring to go to the beach. I laid down throw pillows that led from house to beach, and they sat on a towel in the shade of a rain umbrella duct taped to the mini basketball net.

My grandson invited me to play board games (probably because Puppy, Cheetah and Sharky are not very good at board games). Then they went home, slept, woke up and returned to the beach. Days passed… in other words, we did this routine at least half a dozen times.

I. Am. Nana. I oversee a universe of play, but even at that altitude, inner, four-and-a-half-year-old Valerie was kinda hurt. Why can’t I be inside too?

Because, I gently remind her. Now you’re big.

*I write essays, fiction and poetry. Contact me for freelance writing projects and collaborations, or to write a guest post. *I’m a life coach and mindfulness mentor. I help clients reclaim attention and deepen spiritual practices by expanding self-compassion and imagination. https://valeriespain.com/contact

Glorious Ordinary is a reader-supported publication. If you enjoy what you read, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. Also share it with a friend or colleague, or heart or comment—those help a lot.To receive new posts and support my work become a free or paid subscriber.

Get full access to Glorious Ordinary at valeriespain.substack.com/subscribe