Ten Years

A few days ago, I met a neighborhood friend at the mailboxes. He was obviously not in his normal friendly, out going mood. I asked him what was going on. He sighed and asked how old were my grandchildren. I told him and he said, " Spend as much time as you can with them now. You know you only have ten years." I already knew that he and his wife had raised their only grand child. Their only daughter had gone back to work a few months and they, being retired, gladly took over the care of their grandson. My friend continued, "He is ten now and no long has any interest in us". "We only see him on holidays". "It's really sad, you know" he said. 

I never had giving it much thought before, but I remembered  my own grand parents. They were on my mothers side and we lived in the same town. I spent a lot of time with both of them during my early years. My grand father had a meat market and he would travel around to all the local farms and buy livestock. I loved riding with him in what then seemed at the time, like a huge truck. My grandmother , on the other hand, had a big back yard where she grew many vegetables. I loved helping her pick those and the figs and grapes that she also grew. She always had a half dozen or so of laying hens and it was like a treasure hunt looking for their eggs.    

I was about ten when I got involved in school activities and reverted to seeing them only on special occasions. 

I finished high school and moved away to continue my life. 

Fifteen years later I returned with my wife and son to my home town after having purchased a local business there. My grandfather had passed and my grandmother while still alive, was is very poor health. At thirty-three I realized for the first time how important my grandparents had been in my life and regretted that I had never thanked them for everything they had done. I wondered if they were saddened when I stopped visiting them. 

My friend was right. When it comes to the joy of being grandparents, we only have ten years.