Jonah is my grandson, my first and only most beloved grandchild. For his first 18 months of life we saw him every month. Now he is living with his parents on the other side of the Earth. They moved to Bangkok, Thailand. Having lived there six months he is now two years old and change. His Grandpa and I miss him. A lot.
There is detritus of Jonah in our house. I have two little sticks on my kitchen windowsill, that he picked up on one of our walks up and down and around the block. While skyping with the Jonah on the other side of the Earth I told him, “Grandma still has your stick! That you found on our walk!” He just stared at me through the computer screen, puzzled and stricken. His look said, “Grandma, why do you have my stick? MY STICK!?”
How could I forget how a two year old thinks! I hurriedly tried to assuage him. “Oh, it is your OLD stick! Grandma will give it back, honey. As soon as we are together.” And we swiftly changed the subject.
I’m afraid I am playing catch-up. If Jonah were closer I would know better.