Recently, my daughter presented me with the gift of two journals, each hand-made, by a parent of a child in her nursery school class. The parent explained that during her developmental years, she and her grandmother kept an interactive journal which contained questions and answers about each other’s lives. The parent told my daughter that it was one of her most precious possessions and she believed that one day May and Eloise would feel the same way.

As I examined each journal, I was deeply touched by the amount of thought and care that went into creating this gift for me, a stranger to its creator. Interspersed within its eclectically assembled pages-some from wallpaper, some from random books- were pockets for messages, notecards, poems by Shel Silverstein, and photos of me with my granddaughters. Its originality and beauty were unlike any journal I had ever seen.

After reading a few of the introductory pages that Eloise wrote in her journal, I came across a poem she wrote entitled, “Childhood.”  As I read the poem, I marveled at how she had captured childhood’s definition. Her insertion of the word “you” into her poem made my heart swell. What greater gift is there in life than knowing that a grandparent played a part in a child’s developmental happiness?

Childhood

            Imaginative, loud,      

            Running, screaming, playing

            Playground, basement, toys, you,

            Jumping, singing, reading,

            Relax, calm

            Cape Cod

May’s journal entry was more in keeping with the mind of a sixteen-year-old. After writing about her recent excursion to a Zach Bryan concert (a name unknown to this sixties “rock” concert attendee), her job as a camp counselor, and her love of Cape Cod, May’s questions revolved around what her mother was like during her teenaged years.

Like any teenager, May gets upset when her heart is set on a particular event and she hears the much dreaded “no” exiting the mouths of her parents. It is difficult for a child to hear that word, especially when the child’s peers are all a part of any given activity. As a parent and a grandparent to May and Eloise, I thought that I had been given a teachable moment, an opportunity to present the difficult decisions facing parents who want to instill responsibility and respect in their children. With this thought in mind, I allowed my mind to travel back to a long-repressed memory of the day my husband and I had to say no to an event that May’s mother desperately wanted to be a part of, but was outside the realm of her father’s and my comfort zone.

I described the event to May as well as the reasons behind our decision to say “no” to her mother, and how difficult it was for us to do so. I also wrote that part of being a parent requires making decisions that will help a child develop into a mature, responsible, and respectful adult. I ended my entry by adding that with time, my daughter expressed her appreciation for our decision and thanked us for keeping a steady course during those turbulent teenaged years. It was, and is, my hope that by sharing the incident with May, she would realize that the “no responses” are made because her parents love her and want to help her make good decisions in life. Although, I wonder if I would have understood such esoteric reasoning at her age.

As I age and reflect on all the wonder-filled moments I have been fortunate to experience in my life, I am happy that I kept an annotated guide as I traveled through those moments. The many journals I have kept over the years acted as my way of putting my voice on paper.  Now, with the generous gift from a parent of a child in my daughter’s class, I have the luxury of adding two more voices to my own. And for that, I am extremely thankful.