Dear Grandchild,
(If we share a funny name for each other, put yours here ____________.)
(If we don’t have one, you should be called Farnsworth…
unless your real name is Farnsworth,
in which case you should be called Bingo,
like the dog.)

Time has gotten stretched in my generation.
Everything takes people longer now.
Childhood lasts a very long time.
When I was a child,
I couldn’t wait to be an adult.
Each birthday mattered. Even half-birthdays.

5 meant go to school
8 meant getting homework
10 was DOUBLE DOUBLE DIGITS DIGITS
12 was a dozen
14 meant high school
16 meant drivers license! Freedom! Buy gas! Pay tax!
18 meant adult. Move out. Go live your life.

But here I am writing to you when I’m almost 70
And I don’t know how long we will know each other.
One or some or none of you may not be BORN yet!
If you know me,
I hope I loved you enough and
Just the right way.
If you don’t know me,
Or you can’t remember,
I did love you,
Even if we didn’t say hello face-to-face.

I have held you as much as you needed.
I wanted each of you to need holding
As much as I wanted.
I smelled your baby head.
I can still smell your baby head.

I was there when you ran,
When you swam,
I was there when you scored in soccer.
And when you sang in the play.
I’m still there whenever you do something important.
Baptism? Yup
Wet your pants in school? Uh huh
Hit the ball?
Stopped the shot?
Wanted to ask out that special person?
Picked a puppy at the rescue?
I was there.
When you think of me,
I’m there.
I’m there
Any time you think of me.

Love,
PopPop