Blowing Kisses

“Lennon is upstairs in his bedroom, playing quietly.” These words are half description and half prayer from a very tired Daddy who is unloading the car since Mommy did the driving and went straight to bed. She has to be up for work by seven tomorrow. Daddy doesn’t leave for work until two thirty in the afternoon.

I take just a little too long visiting with Daddy and suddenly he says, “Oh no, we’ve been spotted.” Looking up I see The Lennon staring down at me, long curls framing that bright little face as he waves frantically from his bedroom window.

“Gramma Angell! Up here! Here I am!” He’s absolutely sure that once I know where he is, I will come get him. I already know that he is supposed to be winding down and a trip to Gramma’s is not conducive to that right now, so I wave back, blowing him a kiss.

The face starts to crumple and I call up to him. “I blew you a kiss, did you catch it?” I blow more kisses and there is no doubt he is my grandson. His little hand covers up his mouth as he puts my kisses there. He’s beaming now.

He blows me some and I catch them too, sweeter kisses I’ve never had. We are connected, just as surely as if he was in my arms and we were hugging each other. We have shared a space that only we know how to get to.

Nothing lies between lovers except love. That is a transcendent experience it took me years to understand. Lennon gets it. He already knows that we are never really far apart, never farther than a kiss carrying all that love can blow in an instant.