Objectively, it was annoying. It’d been a long day, and I was tired. As I was eating my late dinner, GrandOne came downstairs for a bedtime snack and began posing riddles. “What is part of Earth but just ‘eh’ without it?”

“What?” I asked. “Finish chewing and ask me again.” Of course, tired and uninterested in a lot of brainwork, I gave the wrong answer. With a huge, self-satisfied grin, he said, “ART!” The riddles continued throughout his snack and my late dinner.

It wasn’t the quiet I experienced at the end of the day when we lived 3500 miles away. It was something more powerful. I felt deep contentment to be a part of his life.

“You know Pink Pony Club!?” GrandThree asked in astonishment when I began singing along with her rendition of Chappell Roan’s hit. (I didn’t confess I’d learned it from her cousins, GrandTwo and GrandFour, last summer). When we stumbled on a few lyrics, I opened my music app, and we sang along to the lyrics as they scrolled along with the music.

In our empty nest, I often sang and danced for the dog. GrandThree, however, seemed to get more pleasure from it than he did. We laughed and smiled. I felt a kind of joy I never felt by myself.

GrandOne and I passed each other moving in and out of the pantry. As we bumped into each other, he said, “I love you.” I floated above the clouds the rest of the day.

After spending hours filling out forms and uploading documents proving my worth and integrity, my daughter-in-law texted, “Can you pick up GrandThree?” I was nearing completion but jumped at the chance to be helpful (and leave my bureaucratic hell). The dog and I walked to get her. Her energetic stories greeted me and continued nonstop as we returned home. 

Despite all that our capitalist culture tells us, what matters doesn’t require me to upload documents. I am grateful for these moments that remind me of what matters.