I met my great grandson for the first time three days ago. Because of distance, some sad family drama, my PTSD, and lack of funds, we had never been able to get together before. My grandson was astonished when he was told that I am his grandpa’s mom.
“Mammy” is the name my grandchildren have given me. Soon, my great grandson was saying: “Follow me, Mammy! Follow me!” I joyfully followed him all around the 5,660 square feet and 2+ acres of the 1904 Airbnb mansion that had been rented for my granddaughter’s wedding in Connecticut.
“Mammy! Follow me!” My grandson led me down a creaky old staircase to a dark basement. “We have to be careful,” he whispered. “There are spiders down here. And if we hear any noise, we’ll have to leave fast!”
“Okay,” I said. “I like this basement. I used to play in the basement on hot summer days, when I was a little girl. There was a snake in that basement. . .”
“Ssh, Mammy, did you hear that noise? Hurry, we have to get out of here!”
I ran up the stairs behind his slender little figure, as he dashed all the way from the basement to the third floor. The third floor had a pool table. My great grandson challenged me to a game of pool — played according to his unorthodox rules, of course. We tied the game.
As the catered dinner was being set up on tables under a covered back porch, I heard another “Follow me, Mammy!” and was led on a delightful run down a gently sloping, grassy hill. Later, I logged onto Google maps on my computer and found the satellite view of the Airbnb where we were staying. Using a handy Google map tool, I calculated the distance between the back porch of the mansion, to the trees at the bottom of the hill. The length of the route we ran is a little over 460 feet.
After running down the hill and searching for wild animals in the bushes (“If anything tries to get us, Mammy, I will hit it with this big stick!”), we ran back up the hill. We did this twice, for a total of 1,840 feet of hilly running on a hot (90 degree Fahrenheit) and very humid New England summer day. That’s more than 1/3 of a mile.
Fortunately, since reading the book Mini Habits by Stephen Guise last September and changing my daily routine, I have been logging several miles each day on my exercise bike, and planking and lifting weights, for the past ten months. Because of this, I was able to keep up with my very energetic grandson on our hilly runs. I even ran a few circles around him on the hill.
When we were running downhill the first time, I asked him: “How old are you now?” It’s hard for me to keep all the ages straight in our large, extended family.
“I’m six!” he replied
“I’m sixty-six!” I said, as I ran alongside him.
“Wow!” he said.
When I was running with my grandson, I felt ageless. Until the next morning, that is, when I got out of bed and discovered some sore muscles. But it was so worth it!
Today, I am back home with my husband and our two rescue dogs in New Mexico, and my great grandson is with his mom, my younger granddaughter, visiting his father in Pennsylvania, before they fly back to their home in California. My older granddaughter is now married — it was the best wedding ceremony ever! — and my son and his fiancee are back in Pennsylvania, while my daughter and her boyfriend are heading back to Washington state.
I miss them all so very much. But they are still right here with me in my wonderful new memories of the best two days of my life.
“Follow me, Mammy!”
The title of this post was inspired by a poem entitled Ageless, written by my blogging friend Alexis Rose. Check it out: https://atribeuntangled.com/2019/07/16/ageless/
In the comment section, I would love for you to tell me: do you feel old or young? Regardless of your age, I believe it is true: you are only as old as you feel. Most days, I feel about 25. 😁
PS: Since my blog is about healing from PTSD, I just had to add this: I couldn’t have done this trip, without the healing I’ve had for my severe Complex/Developmental PTSD. I couldn’t have done it, without a lot of prayer and the faith I now have in the Lord. I couldn’t have flown all by myself through all that turbulence. I couldn’t have faced being around relatives who have been told outright lies and twisted half truths about me, which is sadly typical of how narcissistic abusers portray their victims. And I certainly could not have handled being in the presence of, and seated at the same table with, an ex who literally almost killed me twice, many years ago, without a ton of healing for my PTSD. (See my How to Heal PTSD page for details on how my healing has happened.)
A Blog About Healing From PTSD 