Watching Miss Vivi bond with Grandpa Gold (her Great Grandpa Gold) was one of the highlights of my trip to Bear Lake this summer.  She seemed to instinctively sense just how special a person he is and instantly became his four-wheeling buddy, walking companion, lap warmer, and nap pal.

For his birthday this year, each family member was asked to write about a memory of Grandpa Gold.  This is the Grandpa Gold that I know . . .

I have so many fond memories of Grandpa that it’s hard to just choose one.  Perhaps I should write about the sound of Grandpa–the jingle jangle of change in his pocket as he walked; the quick, solid thump of his shoes; his whistle (Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho) as we bounced around Disneyland.  Or the smell of Grandpa when he’d come home for lunch—a distinct, pleasant mix of Irish Spring (green) soap and earthy greenhouse potting soil. Or the sight of Grandpa—always a twinkle in his eye, a smile on his face, and his straight, strong posture.   And what grandchild will ever forget the taste of Grandpa’s ice cream store; I credit Grandpa for my love of premium ice cream—burnt almond fudge is the best!

But more than anything, the one impression that keeps surfacing in my mind is his tender touch and treatment of Grandma over the years.  Even as a young child, I realized that their relationship was special.  I loved how they would hold hands . . . how he would call her “sweetheart” . . .  how they would kneel down together at the dinner table, grasping hands throughout the prayer and kissing after “amen.”  I admired how he would open doors for her . . . and how she allowed him to open doors for her.  But more than anything, I will never ever forget his sweet and gentle care of Grandma when she was sick.  He was there for her until the very end, doing everything he could to help make her comfortable, to share the burden of her illness, to leave her no doubt about how much he adored her.

But, of course, that’s not really the very end. It’s only the first chapter of their eternal romance.  I hope to live worthy of witnessing the unfolding of future chapters when they are reunited again.

I love you, Grandpa!

August 13, 2000

13:13 in the afternoon

The most significant day … hour … minute of my life.

The moment I became a mother.

Sure. Even prior to becoming a mother, I had read all the chain e-mail “motherhood” messages known to man. You know … the ones that calculate a mother’s “salary” by all the work she does; or the quips that suggest lofty job titles like “Research Associate in the field of Child Development” for stay-at-home moms; or even the gems that I’m convinced are meant to make me feel guilty for bemoaning today’s the fingerprints and crayon “art” on my walls and the spilled milk on my newly mopped kitchen floor, promising me that I’ll miss all the chaos when the kids have left the nest.

And, of course, I had a front-row seat to witness the service of my own mother as she raised her own five little angels.

I had even tended lots of children over the years, babysitting kids that idolized me; my sibilings that pinned me down, gagged me and cut my hair; and even a little tyke (Kevin Nordstrom) that kicked me in the gut when I told him it was time for bed.

And if that wasn’t enough, I had been a responsible pet owner since before I could even walk.

But nothing that I had ever read, seen or done could have prepared me for the life-altering experience of becoming a mother.  It awakened in me a fierce instinct I thought only mother bears possessed–the impulse to sacrifice life and limb to protect my child from any threat, real or imagined. Just like the Grinch discovering the true meaning of Christmas, “[my] small heart grew three sizes that day!” And even though I didn’t know it at the time and can’t, in my mortal state, even fully comprehend the magnitude of it now, the moment I became a mother truly did redefine who I am … not just for time but for eternity.

And so each August 13th when Ariana’s birthday rolls around (and it’s happening far faster and more frequently than it should), I secretly celebrate it as my special day, too.

Happy Birthday, Ariana! I am grateful and honored to be your MOTHER! May you always honor and hold sacred the power of creation within you so that your defining moment will be as joyful and eternal with your firstborn as mine was with you.