Our 10-year-old granddaughter, Isabelle, skipped toward our car, her long blond hair bouncing, her blue-gray eyes flashing with excitement. She had left her parents behind in Seattle and flown to Tucson to spend her school’s winter break with us.
Chris and I had anticipated her visit with excitement… and worry. It had been decades since we’d cared for young children. Would Izzy like the food we served? Would we think up enough fun activities to do? We lacked friends with young children, so keeping the momentum going would rest solely on our shoulders. Another concern was the cold front that had blown in, dropping temperatures and intermittent rain.
During the drive, I apologized for the weather. I imagined Izzy must be freezing in those jean shorts — short, frayed and decorated with colorful flowers. I glanced at her in the rear-view mirror.
“It’s okay,” she said, her eyes wide. “It’s warm here compared to Seattle.”
A laugh escaped my lips. “I guess you’re right.” That was one worry we could let go of for the day.
As I backed the car into the garage, Izzy said she hadn’t eaten much during the trip and was hungry. I said we could eat dinner in a few minutes. Chris had grilled some chicken before we’d left for the airport, I explained. And I would quickly sauté fresh vegetables and bake frozen French fries.
Our Chow Chow, Chief, had other plans. When we entered the house, he ran in circles and leaped around, excited and expecting a walk. I asked Izzy if it was okay if we took him for a short walk before we ate.
“Sure,” she said, unconcerned about the dinner delay. She skipped toward the door, eager to accompany us. During the walk, she remarked about the uniqueness of the desert compared to the Pacific Northwest. She loved seeing mountains all around and pointed at saguaro cactuses with unusual-looking arms.
Outdoor adventures and creative activities turned out to be the most fun for Isabelle and helped us connect. Our walk through the neighborhood with Chief kicked off this trend. Nature walks, gathering stones and flowers, painting and weaving bracelets and playing music on crystal sound bowls were activities we enjoyed together. Over the course of the week, these experiences brought big smiles to her face and bonded us.
After dinner, Izzy expressed an interest in painting. “I brought some supplies along,” she said.
Once I covered the kitchen table with a plastic cloth, she handed me a piece of paper. “You have to paint a picture, too, Grand Sue.”
“I can do that,” I said, feeling unsure. I’d held a paintbrush recently, but only to paint walls a single color. I flashed back to days painting with Marion and Keith when they were children. How long ago that seemed. More than 20 years ago.
I painted a single flower and Izzy did, too. My flower sat on a grassy hill in front of a panorama of mountains, and her flower played the leading role in her picture.
“I feel the most happy and calm when I paint,” Izzy said, as she finished her flower’s stem.
Her serenity was apparent in the tone of her voice and peaceful expression on her face. My chest warmed with joy over her sharing this heartfelt nugget with me. I complimented her on her insightful self-observation and mentioned how swimming brought me that state of joy and calm.
“I love to swim, too,” she said in a soft voice. Another connection.
Other evenings we played cards, dueted on my seven yoga singing bowls, twisted colorful rubber bands into bracelets and assembled a puzzle. One night, we took my 92-year-old mom to a Mexican restaurant. My mom had trouble hearing, like we all did, because the place was busy and reverberant with sound. Izzy engaged my mom in conversation, repeating her words whenever necessary. My mom later said how much she appreciated that Izzy tried so hard to bring her into the conversation. As an older adult, she sometimes feels unseen by people. But not by Izzy.
Another night we met my son, Keith, at a Korean restaurant near his apartment. Izzy had been excited to eat kimchi, but the noodles she ordered weren’t what she expected. “I can’t eat these,” she said. A frown transformed into a smile when I loaded kimchi from my soup onto her plate and an initial taste passed the test. Chris and I devoured her plate of noodles, finding them to our liking. This quick food swap saved the day.
On the drive home, Izzy said she expressed a desperate need for a bathroom. Chris didn’t want to stop but I insisted that we pull off at a QuikTrip. I walked beside her past the the lottery ticket machines and the robot mopping machine to the bathroom. On the way out, we laughed at the confused robot with a female voice that spun in circles and kept wiping the same area of the floor.
During the daytime hours, the three of us bounced ourselves silly at a trampoline park, took Chief to a dog park, which had swings and other play equipment for Izzy, walked in Sabino Canyon and visited old Tucson.
Izzy later said that she most enjoyed our outing to Sabino Canyon. While we walked along a trail, she pointed at cactuses, wildflowers, cliffs of rocks and pools of water.
“There should be more places like this without buildings and roads for wild animals,” she said. “I want to be President someday. People need to learn to be nicer to nature.”
She picked wildflowers that were blooming early, collected pieces of granite containing shiny mica and waded barefoot in pools of icy water. Her arrangement of penstemon, yellow brittlebush and purple lupine was later offered to me as a gift along with a “For You” note with a heart. I placed the lovely flowers in a vase for a table decoration.
The week passed quickly and too soon we drove Izzy back to the airport. We filled out special forms so that we could accompany her to the gate. When the flight started boarding, Izzy looked at us with wide, sad eyes and said that she wished that she could stay longer. Chris and I hugged her, told her how much we’d enjoyed her visit and said we hoped she would visit again soon.
She strode away, her pink backpack and waterfall of shiny hair disappearing down the jetway. I knew the house would feel too quiet that night. Chris and I would miss hearing Izzy’s running footfalls on our tile floors, her humming and happy voice.
We shouldn’t have worried about Izzy’s visit, I thought. She had been a joy to be around. We remembered how to be parents, we rediscovered play. And Izzy had reminded us that we’ll never be too old to have fun. With Izzy around, we expressed more patience, joy and youthfulness. She brought out the best in both of us. And she inspired us to keep on living in this youthful and light-hearted way.
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That’s such a lovely story and it’s wonderful that the visit was such a success. Izzy will always remember it and she sounds like a really amazing person. Thank you for sharing this.