Ava and I

“Do you want to play with me, Grandpa?” three-year-old Ava asks. The words are musical. Of course the answer is always, YEEESSS! Let’s play!

We build houses out of fat Legos or sift sand in the sandbox or sort buttons or read a book or play trains or I sit and watch as she flits around the front lawn in her Tinkerbelle outfit. All are great fun.

One sunny morning Ava says, “Grandpa, do you want to play with me?” I follow her out the front door where she pauses, leans over with both hands and does a sidewalk temperature check. It’s cool enough to go outside. Good!

Next she grabs the oversized sidewalk chalk container and art happens. We sit under the shade of a mesquite tree as flowers grow right out of the cement, people spring to life at our feet and bugs crawl out of cement cracks. Ava stands stock still as I trace her shadow against the Arizona sun. She in turn traces my shadow with the care of an artist. When we are done we stand side by side and admire our masterpiece. It is beautiful!

That was a while ago, I am now sitting here by myself in a different state, wondering, what is she playing today? Are the Legos taking form? Is Tinkerbelle still in flight? As I count the hours to seeing her again I can almost hear her voice, “Can you play with me, Grandpa?”

“Of course, Ava.”