I understood why my son Scott and his wife, Stephanie, were moving to Boise.
There were better job opportunities there than in our sleepy Colorado town. That was important with a new baby coming. But it meant my first grandchild would live miles and miles away.
“He won’t even know his grandmother!” I complained to Scott one day as I helped him pack for the move. I picked up little Cameron Dean. I’ll be a stranger to him, I thought.
I looked down at the baby in my arms. Sing, my mind whispered. I’d never considered myself a singer. But I sang the first words that came into my head: “Puff, the magic dragon, lives by the sea, and frolicked in the autumn mist…” Scott laughed, thinking his mom had lost her mind. But I had a feeling I was on the right track.
The family moved to Idaho. When they called I sang Cameron “our song” over the phone. First there was silence in response, but soon that silence turned into coos and laughter. On my first visit to Idaho, I sang my grandchild to sleep in person.
Cameron knew who I was all right. His singing grandma, an angelic idea.
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