Our granddaughters are growing up. How did they reach fourth and first grade so quickly? Whence the baby softness?  And Leah’s early morning visits to do my hair up in a rainbow of barrettes and bows?  Olivia’s sweet companionship, our word play? My hands must loosen yesterday’s delights to make room for new deliciousness in the making.

As the girls grow into themselves, I guard against labeling them. They have different personalities. Distinct interests. Divergent preferences and temperaments.  That’s as it should be, must be really, if they are to grow into their full potential and embrace their unique essence.

And yet, I can’t help but marvel at how these two sisters channel their energies into such different paths.  Leah is all movement.  She easily learns dance routines —  lyrics, gestures and steps. I don’t know that she so much learns as imbibes, as if she sees all the elements and simply transfers them into her being all of a piece. Leah loves purses and accessories. I’m not sure about sunglasses any more but she could have given Jackie-O a run for her shades a year or two back.  Shakespeare couldn’t have presaged Leah’s arrival yet bequeathed her her very own meme:   “And…though she be but little, she is fierce.” 

Olivia, too, is a quick study though her passions usually keep her nestled into the couch cushions as she reads and reads and reads. She is growing slender and leggy. It makes me so wistful. “Please, please don’t rush from childhood!” I silently call to her from my heart. Another year and she’ll probably be taller than I am. Another and she’ll be on the Bar and Bat Mitzvah circuit. Her mind is forever thirsty and I marvel at the avenues she chases down to slake it. Two weeks ago it was chess. Our first game she left me with a king and a pawn. Who knows what paths she’ll have pursued by our visit next month?

There will surely be envies as they mature. They will notice how one another moves in the world and how others react to them. I remember a day some years back. Olivia had copped a parenting book from her mother’s nightstand.  She was reading it in the rocking chair on the front porch. “What is sibling rivalry?” she asked me.  I don’t recall how I answered her, but I knew it was inevitable.

What I also know is show deep their love is for one another. I keep on my dresser a photo of the two of them snapped the moment they embraced after Olivia’s month away at summer camp. Leah has completely burrowed her face into her sister’s torso. Their arms are wrapped around one another. Olivia rests her head against Leah’s. Eyes closed, Olivia smiles a smile so sweet my heart breaks with joy. The photo sums up a relationship that will withstand all rivalry:

“You’re home,” sighs the younger one.

“I’m home,” answers the elder.