The End

 Week Fifty-two: The End 

And in the end

The love you take

Is equal to the love you make

–The Beatles, The End from Abbey Road

Some time ago when I finally decided I would shed some long-kept but under-utilized books I came across two beautiful volumes that I thought I would give to our friends’ grandchildren instead of the local used bookstore. The day I went to the house to give them the books, I sat with them at the kitchen island building I-don’t-know-what out of thousands of Lego pieces.

Connor, age 10 and Caroline, age 7 are very different people. Connor is reserved and thoughtful. Caroline is playful and spontaneous. Together they generate joy. I spent the better part of an hour building something that looked like I was new to Lego World and blocking Caroline from tearing it apart. Her last attempt was successful (and my excuse to retire to where the other adults sat and talked.)

Not long afterward I got two handmade cards. Connor’s card read:

Thank you... 

for the books. We love them and (for) 

being super nice to us and playing Legos with us!

For me, there is joy in simply playing with a child. There is joy in children, and it comes to us from them. It seems like I have always known this. It’s one of the best examples of reaping what you sow. 

When we were 18 years old Deb and I learned we would be parents. After the initial wave of anxiety that came with the realization of the requirement of revealing this news to certain individuals, there came the task of actually doing so. Telling my parents was exactly why I was so anxious. Telling Deb’s parents was very different. My future father-in-law said something like, “ Well, all I know is that I’m gonna be a grandpa.”

Soon after we traveled to Baltimore City to tell my nearly eighty year old grandmother. She took the news as calmly as I should have known she would. (Her advice to all of her grandsons was exactly the same: Keep your hands in your pockets. Something I had not done well.) All these years later, I’m sure my memory is more convenient than accurate, but I choose to remember her response as, “You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”

I do not remember telling my favorite uncle, but I do remember our first conversation on the matter. He said something like, “If there ever was someone who deserved to have a child, it’s you.” That was an incredibly supportive thing to say, no doubt, and I certainly never forgot that he said it. I’m really glad it was said that way.

Children are gifts, and after a nearly forty year career in public education, I can think of more than a few people whom I wished had deserved the children they had. Conversely, every child should be treated as if they deserve care-givers who cherish them.

Giving books away, building short-lived Lego sculptures, smacking the hands of a giggly seven year old bent on destroying my masterpiece, making them laugh, and being silly myself was in that very short hour the love I made.

Caroline’s card read:

Thank you for the books. I love you and have a Merry Christmas.

The End (Remastered 2009)