Violets for the Soul

I was born and raised in Groesbeck, Texas, where the high school football field is home of the Fighting Goats. The school yearbook is called the TAOG (that’s “goat” spelled backward). Tangible signs of “Goat Spirit” — the school colors of red and white, logos with the image of our feisty mascot ­— dot the brick-paved streets of downtown.

And that spirit seems to stay with those of us who’ve moved away, however far we may venture from our hometown roots.

So I found it amusing when the acronym GOAT became a popular way to note the greatest of all time in their respective fields. How apropos, I thought, remembering my graduating class motto, which unabashedly declares: “We’re as great as great can be. We’re the Class of ’73!”

I’m thankful that those years instilled memories of community spirit, close-knit friendships and small-town traditions. Once a Goat, always a Goat.

But as of this month, with all due respect to Simone Biles, Aretha Franklin and the rest, I too have reached a level of Goat-ness worthy of all caps.

Our eldest grandchild has turned 13. Suddenly, I’m a GOAT: the Grandmother Of A Teenager.

Where did the time go? It seems that just yesterday we were at the hospital welcoming her arrival.

Random little moments of her first 13 years cross my mind like an old family movie reel:

The way she felt in my arms on the day she was born

Our miniature dachshund Einstein’s gentle way with this precious creature so close to his size

How she loved “My Steinstein”

The absolute, pure joy of hearing her laugh and call my name

Bedtime stories followed by the prayer my parents taught me

Watching the garden grow

Tea parties and bubble baths

S’mores at the ranch

Art projects at the kitchen table

Puzzles and play-acting

Afternoons at the park

School plays and singalongs

Her first Blue Willow tea set

Trips to the zoo, the museum and the movie theater

The “Nutcracker” ballet and, for her 10th birthday, her first opera

Baking Christmas cookies

Giggles and girlfriends

Halloween costumes and holiday gatherings

Soccer games and swim meets

Manis and pedis

Lunches at La Mad

And on and on and on.

Such happy memories. Of course, it hasn’t always been fun and games. Together, we’ve endured the challenges of COVID, a couple of hurricanes, the loss of dear family members and friends. But we’ve had each other and our common bonds of love, family and faith.

I think back to 2011, when my husband and I announced we were to be grandparents. Everyone asked what names we had chosen for this new role in our lives. I hadn’t given much thought to a cute, clever nickname, having addressed my grandparents as simply Grandmother and Grandfather.

Then we attended the funeral of a beloved family member on my husband’s side. Relatives from all around gathered at a quaint old church in East Texas. With the deceased’s beautifully handsewn quilts on display, her three grown daughters sang favorite hymns a capella. One by one, numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren rose to make their contributions, each expressing their love in their own unique way. As one young man played a recital piece on the piano, I wondered how many times he had played it for her and how proud she must have been of his accomplishment. Another read an essay he had written about his Granna and all she had meant to him. He spoke of her hands, recalling how she had disliked their worn appearance.

“But I loved Granna’s hands,” he said, going on to describe the many ways they had dispensed comfort, love and assistance through the years.

If only I could make such an impact on others’ lives, I thought. That’s when I knew I would be “Granna.”

In the years since, I’ve hoped to live up to my namesake’s example.

The joy of grandparenting is all-encompassing and beyond words. It’s simply indescribable — if you know, you know. Since 2012, our joy has grown exponentially with the birth of four more grandchildren, all boys. When we’re all under one roof, it’s a mixture of chaos and bliss. The time has flown, and we continue to cherish our time together, embracing each age and stage with wonder and gratitude.

With typical grandmotherly pride, I think of each of my five grandchildren in superlatives: the best-looking, the smartest, the kindest, the most talented and, yes, the greatest of all. We are blessed beyond measure.

As I congratulate friends on their children’s and grandchildren’s recent high school graduations, I think of the milestones ahead in our own family. Next year, our granddaughter will graduate from middle school, and in the blink of an eye, she’ll be accepting her high school diploma. Before we know it, her brother and cousins will be doing the same.

I look forward to all the experiences to come and the memories to be made.

It will be the Greatest Of All Times.