My back is no longer in chronic pain. I have a mild back ache only because this morning I’ve been picking up my one-year-old grandson, Emilio. He has round brown eyes with long eyelashes. He crawls to me when he is pooped or hungry, as opposed to crawling towards Papa Jaime, his grandfather.
“Oh, now you come to me. You must be pooped?” I say as I lift him into my arms. I tilt his bottom and sniff. “Puchi,” I say, “Hiciste caca, puchi!” and I proceed to change him.
We look through the window and see three tiny birds perched on the concrete fountain. They twitch and look both ways. One has an orange head. Emilio stares out, resting in my arms. He’s no longer directing; he is in a state of wonder.
“Cariño, would you check that his milk is ready, please?” I call out to Grandpa. He tests the milk, removes the bottle from the pot, dries it off, and brings it over to us. Emilio grabs for the warm bottle with both hands. I sit in the black swivel chair that creaks with every slight turn. He sucks heartily on the nipple. Milk drops balance on the edges of his lips, his lids closing sporadically. When he’s done, he hands me the bottle.
I sing Emilio the same melody I used to sing to his mom when she was little: “A la roo oo roo oo oo, a la roo oo oo, ...” His leg twitches, and soon, I feel his body go limp. Suddenly, he weighs more. I squat and position him on the tri-fold pad, his cheeks beginning to blush. Sometimes, I lie down next to him for a short nap and gaze at his angelic face.
While Emilio looks to me for his basic necessities, Grandpa is Emilio’s playmate—the one whom he seeks upon arrival and the one he turns to once he’s fed and rested. Grandpa joins him on all fours and they both crawl around exploring, “What is this, Papa? Oh, you want to get in the car? Let’s open the door,” he says while helping Emilio into a round, yellow car with a red top. Emilio climbs in but then reaches for the brown bear he likes to hug
Then we hear his dad’s truck slide into the driveway. Emilio vocalizes and ambles towards his dad. His dad lifts him up and holds him on one arm. Jaime and I wave goodbye from our front porch, and a warm feeling of love washes over us. No longer burdened with work schedules, I am free to be fully present for my grandson. This is the full attention my children deserved, but didn’t get enough of, and I am happy that I can pay it forward. I get to care for him the whole day without the stress of work obligations. When he rests, I rest without a hint of guilt or anxiety.
