Shut In, but not Shut Out

“A picture is worth a thousand words.” And how! I was having a telephone conversation with my 4-year-old granddaughter, Anne-Marie, and she was describing something she wanted from the toy store. As she talked in and out of the phone, I couldn’t make out everything she was saying--something about Rapunzel’s hair (from the movie, “Tangled”)--evidently a wig for pretend play. Finally her daddy got on the phone and told me she had said the hair was 4 units long. Not only could I not understand her, I couldn’t understand what she was talking about! My son told me that meant the hair was about two feet long.

Her twenty-two-month-old sister, Maddie got on the phone, and though I loved her babbling, I didn’t get what she said. Finally, I suggested that Jamie put them on Skype, something we hadn’t done in several weeks. He said he would call me back in a few minutes, and I went to look in the mirror and smooth my hair. They always looked adorable, but tele-viewing works both ways!

When the phone rang on the internet, I connected and saw my grandchildren in glorious, living color and animation! How beautiful! Anne-Marie’s darling face filled the screen with her muss of blonde curls, and I could see she was dressed in a taffeta-like Rapunzel costume with a criss-cross bodice, puffy sleeves and full purple skirt. I could understand every word she rattled off to me, and saw every toy she held up--mainly, her Prince Flynn doll.

I caught my breath when I saw Maddie, a red-haired, miniature version of her mother. If only I could kiss those loveable cheeks! She was a vision of spun cinnamon-sugar, wriggling off her daddy’s lap and waving at me. This would never do! They were more tantalizing than ever! We set up a tentative date for a visit to their house in the near future. When I saw them briefly at Thanksgiving, the girls had been recently sick and not quite themselves. I could see they had grown and were now bursting with health and energy and I couldn’t wait to hold them.

On this holiday-feeling snow day, I caught up with grandchildren in Georgia panting and gasping as they played in the snow. 13-year-old Corrin’s comments were descriptive, but her mother promised to post pictures later. She was having her own snow day, getting frustrated trying to work from home with an uncooperative computer. Atlanta was virtually at a standstill with icy, snowy roads.

I have not ventured out into our 2-inch snow, and I have learned the meaning of the word, “house-coat.” It’s a coat you wear in the house to keep warm, and I have worn mine all day. A pot of homemade chicken soup simmers on the stove, the fireplace glows cheerfully, and electronic communication keeps loneliness at bay. Howard has been at his books, only just now going out to start the car. A cup of hot chocolate is starting to sound appealing on this winter-quiet, first-snow-of-the-season day. Truly my cup runneth over.