The Timer

When I was a kid I looked forward to the Saturdays when I was able to go with my Dad out to my Grandparents' farm.  I loved spending the day with my Nana. No matter what we did, spending time with her was simply wonderful. She had a way with making you feel so special just by being with her. I would help her out with the house work, we would cross stitch, paint nails, go into town, or just sit and talk. Often times, I would sit up on one of the bar stools my grandfather had made and talk to her while she cooked in the kitchen.

My Nana had this timer that stayed on the refrigerator door. As a child, I thought it was so much fun to time my Nana in everything she would do. I would see how long it would take her to do each task. However, sometimes I would set the timer and tell her she had a certain about of time to get something done! Sometimes she would make it in time, and then others she would not. We would both start laughing like crazy when the timer went off.

Today, that timer is on my refrigerator door. I always think of my Nana when I set it while cooking. For the most part, this timer stays in the kitchen, but from time to time, it finds its way down the hall to the shelf outside of Luke’s bathroom. We use it to help him know how long he needs to brush his teeth or to let him know when he needs to get out of the shower.

Last night I was cooking dinner and Luke wanted me to come and play a game with him. I told him I would come and play once I had our dinner in the oven.

A few minutes later, from down the hall I heard:

“Momma, I have set the timer! You need to be in here playing with me when it goes off.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I honestly could hear my Nana laughing.

My sweet Nana never had the chance to meet Luke, but oh how she would have loved him. She would love his smarts, his charm, his whit, the big blue eyes, and curly hair.

However, last night, I knew that she would love how the tables had turned and now, it was me who needed to move quickly before the timer went off.