MY AUTUMN

I wrote this several years ago when we were tending Autumn, one of our grandchildren. Of course we knew we were tending her but in her mind she was having a sleep-over at Grandma and Grandpa's.

                                                 MY AUTUMN
She walked into my room as if to let me know she was still around.
My Autumn, my youngest grandchild, born to my oldest daughter.
She ventured into this quagmire of clutter I called my office
Where I spend so much time in my old age.
Where faded pictures of her mother,
Adorn the walls in torn and dilapidated frames.
Left there to remind me of my younger days.
Of family vacations, school, work and just people.
I looked into her smiling face as she called me Grandpa
In that very small voice that I could hardly hear.
I almost cried when I thought of one so young
Who wanted to spend time with an old Grandpa who was almost spent.
We talked for a few moments then she turned and run from the room
To return to the toys and entertainment in the room next door.
I thanked my Heavenly Father that I had this privilege
To associate with a child so full of innocence and vigor.
As she left the room I turned back to my pictures, my clutter
And the many things of time gone by.
And all at once I realized how quickly I had grown old.

Thoughts by W.R. Baldwin
26 Aug 1999