Isn’t it strange how something of significance can fade into a memory?
During the years 2019-2022, the world was engaged in war. The war was against the Great Pandemic caused by the Covid-19 Virus. It upended our lives, our ways of living, conducting business, learning, and playing.
It was due to the travel restrictions during the pandemic that I missed out on a planned in-person visit with our 4-year-old grandson 1,000 miles away.
We were able to devise a special way to visit which became ‘Mondays with Meema’. These visits via Zoom or Face Time became a special joy.
The technology
It was a special one-on-one time because he was able to use an older iPad and his dad’s phone to make our connection. His parents set up his room for the calls. Like so many others, we grappled with the technology to find a comfort zone. We began with Face Time and then branched out to Zoom. When we used this for the first time, I invited him and then read the invitation code – that long, sequence of numbers for the Meeting ID and Passcode. He carefully listened and plugged them in, and it worked. On a subsequent call I mentioned I would use Zoom. He called me and frantically asked, “Meema, what’s the code? What’s the code? Is it . . .” as he tried to recite all that could remember of the previous code.
It was a special time together
Although one purpose of the call was to spend time together, the other was to allow his parents time for uninterrupted work. Like so many families, they struggled to adjust work life and home life. They woke early to get work done before he rose; they allowed him to stay up way too late so that they could have that morning time. They struggled to participate in virtual meetings and calls with a 4-year-old running around behind them.
So, the calls served two purposes and allowed for a relationship, because our conversations were just between us. He shared with his parents as he chose to and I refrained from giving them an all-inclusive report.
I didn’t tell them of the time I observed that he’d had a mishap and asked to be excused from the screen. He deftly turned the screen so that I was looking out the window while he made a quick change. At another time he pulled out the whole assortment of his personal toy store to introduce me to each of his Terminator characters and LEGO bricks explaining what they could do. At the end of the calls, I reminded him about returning the toys to their places. There was no pushback or delay – that’s one of the perks of being a grandparent.
We learned from each other
“How did you change your screen name?”
“Oh, when you touch your ear, it means that you can’t hear me?”
“How did you make those stars around my head?”
“It’s easy, Meema . . .”
“Meema, I’m going to share the screen so we can draw together”.
I learned these techniques, and I learned, too, just how tasty a handful of Cheez-Its can be as we shared a snack time virtually.
He showed me his desktop globe and spun it to various sites in the world. I mailed him maps of the United States and of the world and watched in fascination as we explored the world and he named pieces of information that he knew and as he tried to find places such as the Nile River. I admired his determination and his zeal.
We were forced to really see the outside world
Using resources such as the New York Times’ At Home section and other materials, along with the abundance of the outside world in the spring of 2020; we opened our eyes, explored and shared what we saw with each other. As I industriously worked in my garden, I shared photos of daily sights. Almost daily I’d see a green gecko to share with him and he named it Gerardo. Gerardo was spotted on the roof, on a leaf, or scurrying away. To reciprocate, he shared a photo of Bernice, a pigeon that built a nest in a tree outside his window. When Bernice disappeared, we wondered where she could be. He decided that a bird like Bernice would surely go to New York, and so that is where she is, probably flying around Brooklyn today.
We also shared an adventure together when, during a FaceTime call, I stepped outside to our porch and discovered a spider web with a small skink trapped in it! I shared the site with him, and we pondered what to do about it eventually deciding to pull down the web and let the creature escape.
In both homes we tried growing vegetables and, in both places, had limited success, but the experience was shared. There was that give and take of sharing our lives and gaining from what we shared.
And I learned a valuable lesson
I wanted to develop a plan for our conversations and during the first call explored his interests. I asked, “What plants do you like? What animals? What toys?” And then I made such a stupid mistake. I asked who his favorite people were. What was I thinking? His reply put me to shame. “I like all people.” It was as simple as that.
As I’ve relived this repeatedly in my mind since then, I really don’t think I meant it the way it seems. I think I was trying to get to know who his friends were, who he liked spending time with. Yet in hindsight, it was a terribly insensitive question. And to make it all worse, when at the end of that call I summed up our time, he reminded me, “and don’t forget people, I like all people.”
I received a special gift
I received a most amazing gift from these Mondays. One week I had him gather his crayons and a blank sheet of paper and guided him to draw a bird using simple curved and straight lines. He followed instructions and a bird appeared on the page. I felt inspired to have him reach further and taught him about the word ‘Portrait’ and then asked him to draw a portrait. Since I was the only other person there, it would have to be of me. He agreed and I held very still for a few minutes. At one point I saw him deep in thought, his crayon held at his chin and with his head cocked to one side as he gazed at the screen image of me. Finally, he gave the ok for me to be able to move and showed me the result.
I was astounded. He captured my yellow shirt, my brown arms, and the gold hoop earrings I wore, and explained that since he added sunglasses to his portrait of the bird, he added sunglasses to mine, too.
His mom was so taken that she framed the drawing and I carry the image in my iPhone.
Seeking and finding joy
We ended each visit with the thought, “What brought you joy today?” The answers varied and helped each of us search for and find joy. Today my joy is remembering this special time. My hope as a grandparent is that he seek and find joy throughout his life.
