The moon shining through my grandson’s window is almost full. We turn off the ceiling light and watch it slowly move through the shadowy tree branches.
It’s been a day of hard playing — we march through the house playing pretend instruments, throw pillows at each other, sit on the floor and play construction site. HIs mom uses boxes from recent deliveries to build a connected series of tunnels and towers with window flaps that open and close. It’s his big rig cab; then it’s his secret bed; then it’s the wizard’s tower and he’s the Boy Wizard and I’m the Mommy Wizard.
Grammy, Grammy, he calls. Come and play.
Tomorrow I leave my full heart behind with an overabundance of toys to be opened on Christmas Eve.
I’ve already opened the gift to me from my daughter. It couldn’t be more perfect, and when I can take a photo of it, I will post it here.
Tomorrow I leave.