She watched carefully for bumps and other hazards as she pushed the wheelchair around the lake. Granddad was precious cargo. He’d be 100 next week. He wasn’t particularly excited about that, but she was.
“Boom de boom de ba boom” she sang quietly as she walked. She paused to navigate a corner, concentrating.
“More!” He cried.
She smiled wistfully. She liked to think that he chose that word on purpose. She stopped and put the brakes on the wheelchair to pull a lollypop from her pocket and unwrap it. This had become their private joke. His smile was huge, his eyes met hers with a sparkle as he took it delightedly.
“Thanks Beautiful” he said, meeting her eyes. There he was, for that moment. Really him.
She smiled back and kissed his cheek.
Then she returned to their walk and her singing.
“Boom de ba boom,” keeping pace with her stride.
She remembered the story her Grandparents had told her countless times. They were so close they even told stories together, one starting, the other adding a detail, weaving a complete picture between the two of them.
“He used to take you on his walks when you were in your pram.” Nan would begin.
“I walked every day of my life, from when I was a boy, and had to walk 25km to school.”
“He’d give you a lollipop to keep you happy, and off he’d go.”
“I didn’t want you to cry. The lollipop would keep you quiet.”
“He always used to sing to himself, without really noticing.”
“I didn’t even know I was doing it.”
“You finished your lollipop and said “More, Pop, more!”
“You used to call me Pop.”
“More lollipop?”
“No! More boom boom!”
They both laughed. She had smiled at their delight and pride that she had liked music more than sugar. They were telling her they loved her every time they told that story.
“Then you sang me a tune!” He was surprised all over again, every time he retold it.
“So he sang you the same tune back,” Nan added helpfully, “and you gave him a great big smile.”
“You had such a beautiful smile,” he recalled with a smile of his own.
“You didn’t want more lollipop, you wanted him to keep singing!” Nan exclaimed, amazed every time.
She smiled at the memory.
“Of course I did!”
Both her Grandparents had been musical. Not so much as they got older. She loved their singing. They sang when they were happy.
They had reached the house. The end of their walk. She took him inside and helped him to his chair, with all the usual small soothing words.
The exertion of moving into his armchair made him puff. It was a lot of work for him these days.
Panting, he looked up at her and said
“Thanks Beautiful. I missed your beautiful smile.”
Trying not to spoil the moment with sentimental tears, she smiled back.
“I love you Granddad.”
He beamed.
musingsofamiddleagedmother 