Gold at the End of the “Bean-bow”

My grandson is three now. Time marches on, sometimes stomping, marking the passage in loud even steps, but mostly sneaking past on sock-footed tiptoes, surprising me with its silent, relentless pace. Now he’s three, but in a blink, he’ll be starting school, and in another he’ll don cap and gown, step across a stage, fly away to start a life that doesn’t include Grammy reading Goodnight Moon, or finding Goldbug among the Cars and Trucks and Things that Go.

But I treasure the now. Fixing him “nuk” with Ovaltine, sharing a bowl of “scream” with him and watching his face light with enjoyment as the creamy goodness slips across his taste buds, playing the Curious George DVD again, and again, and AGAIN because it’s his favorite, laying beside him when it’s time for bed, hearing his sweet voice parrot mine, “God bless Mama. God bless Daddy….” Each time he stays with us, precious pages are added to the memory book in my heart.

The upper half of our front door is made of leaded glass. When the morning sun rises above the mountain to the east, its rays refract strips of rainbows across the floor. We wait for that moment together, and he’s quick to spot the first one, scrambling to put arm or hand or finger or foot out so it can be stripe-painted with Mr. Biv’s* signature. He’s eager for me to share this artistic experience. “Green-green…” (Yes, that’s what he calls me. It used to be “Remmy,” but somehow it’s morphed.) “Look, Green-green. Bean-bows.”

I snap a photo of his brilliantly striped foot, thrill at the joy on his face. Yes, sweetie. I think. It’s a bean-bow… and you’re the gold at the end of it.

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*Roy G. Biv – is an acronym to help remember the colors of a rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet