Kasumi + X (or Y)

Kaya the Konqueress

HOLDING NEW HANDS

Any day now I will be a second grandfather, when my daughter Kasumi brings her second baby into the world, a brother or sister for Kaya. Children and grandchildren do a wonderful thing, without even trying: they keep you looking forward, they make you new. In the same way one is a new father for each of one's children, one is a new grandfather for each new grandchild. And a grandfather is a remarkable and very satisfying person to be, as anyone knows who's ever been one. If you're about to be one, congratulations, get ready for the ride.

It's a special experience never twice the same, like being an elephant now and then, a giant redwood or an a propos choo-choo on occasion, a spontaneous horse, a momentary mountain, an essential giraffe, a sudden pogo stick or just a walking companion, whatever the moment requires, and on through the endless list that generations generate. It's not in the same familiar vein as being a parent, or the older vein of being who you are, exactly (whoever that may be); it's being that more ancient, continuous one we all are, layered over with being whatever you can be right now: sort of post-graduate parenting with an ongoing twist.

Yet, being a second grandfather is a newer thing than I expected. (What if it's a boy?) Still, it's not as though you have to learn how to be a second grandfather; if you've managed to remain genuine, and still contain the magical savor of your own childhood (you find that out with your first grandfatherhood), then every subsequent grandfathering should come just about as naturally as holding a new hand. One is already familiar with that part.

When you are a grandfather, whichever grandfather you are, whatever you give is returned in more than full measure. One evening recently I was walking with 2-year-old Kaya in the light of sunset when she pointed to the western sky above the darkling mountains and shouted: "Pink!" while jumping up and down. I hadn't looked or jumped at the sunset in precisely that full-eyed, amazing-discovery way for about 60 years, and there it was again, fresh as the first time, especially holding a new hand.