They Do Indeed Grow Up

Ramona (far right) as Mole in "Wind in the Willows" at the end of June.  

Back in July, Warren and I flew west to spend time with my sons and their families. It was the first time we had been out in Portland and Vancouver (WA, not BC) since 2021 and, with the exception of Ben, who flew back in 2023 when I was hospitalized and again in 2024 with Orlando, I had not seen the Pacific NW contingent for four long years.

And that was when the reality of Ramona, who I last saw as a little girl, hit me: she grew up.

Oh, don't get me wrong. At just 13, Ramona is a teenager, not an adult. But what I mean by "she grew up" is that she was no longer the elementary-age girl who talked and giggled and shared Lego creations and her favorite books (MS level, for the most part) and was, basically, still a little girl back in 2021. And even though I had seen photos over the years, and talked on the phone occasionally with Ramona, it had not sunk in that she was no longer that little girl. 

Nope, nope, nope. Ramona grew up. So much so, in fact, that it took the two of us a few days to figure out how to talk with one another. We finally found a topic that worked for us both: writing, especially writing poetry. She is passionate about the creative writing track at her school, Vancouver School of Arts and Academics, and it was a joy to talk with my new-to-me granddaughter about writing.

Yesterday that same reality that children grow up hit me in the face again. We attended a reception for longtime friend Marilyn, who just turned 91. Marilyn was Ben's preschool teacher for 9 months when we first moved back to Delaware; my connections with her go back even farther (her oldest child was a year behind me in high school). We arrived, signed in, stood looking at the people in attendance, talked with a few, including one whose son had run around with my Sam during their middle school ages ("How did our boys get to be 35, April? How?") and then a young man walked up to me to welcome me and introduce himself. 

"I'm Marilyn's grandson, Beau."

Oh. My. God. Beau. 

"Beau! I'm sorry. I last saw you when you were...maybe three?" I held out my right hand and lowered it from his probable height close to six feet down to nearer my knees, bending my knees to move my hand down. 

Beau smiled and bent his knees down too. Then we both stood back up, laughing a bit.

"Yeah, I know. I grew up."

He and I then had a wonderful short conversation about who he has become, what his life holds, and such. He has a deep commitment to family and taking care of people (a father with health issues, his aging grandmother, a job that involves assisting someone with dementia). I told him that I admired his values and then said, "Let me speak as an elder to you, which I am." We both grinned. "Save some time for yourself."

Beau lit up. "I know! I have learned that when I don't, I get worn down and sad."

We then talked about where Warren and I lived (because I told him that Marilyn and I mail postcards to one another, even though we live about five blocks apart) and he lit up again. "I love your neighborhood," he said, adding that he really loved the diversity of homes in our part of town, then making a disparaging comment about homes in new subdivisions looking all the same.

I cracked up. Telling him that I was a retired lawyer who did a lot of zoning and development law in my day, I explained to him that when developers submit their plans, they spell out in the plan the pattern of facades on the houses, typically either a 3-house or 4-house pattern: a stone veneer facade, a brick veneer facade, a clapboard facade, repeat. 

"Next time you are thinking about it, Beau, drive through one of our local subdivisions and count the facade types. You'll see the pattern really fast." 

He grinned and nodded his head. "I will, I will!"

We finished talking, Warren and I talked with a few others, including the Ancient Birthday Girl (Marilyn's term, not mine), we sampled some of the pies made by a friend (the key lime was superb), and then left. As we walked away, I reflected on meeting and talking with Beau, then thought back to July and Ramona.

Children grow up. Indeed they do.

And that is a thing of wonder.