Today I had the strongest sense of the end of a beginning. While I was in Austin for the Story Circle Network conference, I also got to spend some time with my youngest grandchild and her big sister. Anna is still a baby, cuddly sweet and always smiling. I swear, this baby smiles even when she's crying. She is so amazingly happy!
As I held her extra tight this morning, for one last time, breathing deeply of her sweetness, I realized this is probably the last time I will see her while she is an infant. Next time she's likely to be toddling around, trying to keep up with everyone and everything, with little interest in snuggling against Grannie's shoulder.
But this wasn't about the end of Anna's infancy. This is about the end of the Grandbaby era. One can never be sure, but I suspect our quota of grandchildren has been amply filled. In truth, each time I see any given one of them, I enjoy them a little more, and it's exciting to notice the way their minds and personalities are unfolding like beautiful flowers.
And yet, as I held Anna, although the context of the song and my situation were quite different, I heard a snippet of Roger Whittaker's song, The First Hello The Last Goodbye, “...the end of the beginning is the beginning of the end.” This was such a poignant moment, one to be much savored, and commemorated in writing.
Write now: about a sense of impending endings. Have you ever said a last goodbye to someone you know you'll never see again? How did you feel when your last child began school, or your nest was empty?
Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal