Surviving the whirlwind

I've had my grandchildren round today,  and as always my enjoyment is tainted with irritation at the noise, the mess, the sheer range of emotions they experience and engender in me! I go through the day conflicted - one side of me enjoying the invention behind the chaos,  another part of me in constant apology for the disruption they carry in their wake.  

Surviving the whirlwind

I love them, of course there's no question. I do.
Who doesn't love their grandchildren, 
Their idiosyncrasies, their noisy exuberance,
Their tender emotions so close under the skin?

Why do you avoid having them come to your house, then,
Why do your nerves jangle at their noise,
Why do you look forward to the silence when they've gone?

I love the way they live fully in the moment
Building castles out of bamboo canes,
Mining the cardboard put out for recycling,
My gift of empty jute potato sacks a treasure.

Why do you worry about the mess they make, then,
Why worry their noise is disturbing the neighbours,
Why do you wish they were other than they are?
 
I really don't, not deep down.  I'm so lucky to see them so often
They are small for a short time, their love so fleeting, 
Ten years and they'll be wrapped up in friendships 
And exams. Craving a cuddle from someone else's arms. 

Why concern yourself with what people might think, then,
Why see problems where there are none,
Why not enjoy making memories along with the chaos?

 

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