The winter storm named Jonas came roaring through our town a couple of days ago with a vengeance. Estimates of snowfall in Hopkinsville ranged from 8-11″, and that was on top of a rather substantial layer of ice. A state of emergency was declared by our governor–it was that bad or worse–just about everywhere in the state. But now that my grandkids live down the street, I am getting to view snow from their perspective. It’s FUN!

By the time I walked down to their house with the still-warm brownies I had baked for their parents (who had shoveled our sidewalk and driveway earlier in the day), the Girls (my granddaughter and her two friends, who are sisters) were putting the finishing touches on their fortress (which resembled an igloo.) Sixty or more blocks of packed snow, firmly molded with a plastic container, formed their shield against the dreaded Boys, my grandson and his friend (the sisters’ sibling). The fortress harbored a stash of snowballs roughly 4″ in diameter, made with a plastic contraption my daughter had bought at Target a couple of months ago. There must have been at least a dozen of them. The Girls were ready. It was just a matter of time.

It came soon enough when one of the sisters, now positioned as the lookout, spotted the Boys rounding the corner. The Boys were not oblivious to the possible trap awaiting them as they approached, and it was the Girls who threw the first snowball, launching the attack! The Girls were fired up and confident, and the Boys scrambled to keep up. The already-made snowballs ensured that the initial assault was relatively lengthy, and for awhile, the Girls seemed to be winning even though the Boys pummeled the fortress little by little. Their screams and laughter could be heard from inside the house.

I couldn’t help but smile and laugh as I watched kids being kids. Pure joy was embodied in that fragment of time when all was well with the world and the snowball fight was friendly. Eventually, the pre-mades ran out and the playing field was leveled. Both sides were trying to keep up with throwing snowballs until all of a sudden, one of my grandkids got physical, and suddenly they were wrestling in the snow like a couple of puppies! They were having a grand old time until one of the other girls decided to ‘help’ and slammed a double handful of snow in my grandson’s face. In a split second, he was up, his face red with what looked like rage. But it wasn’t. It was bitterly cold skin reacting to a lot of snow being thrown at it!

The saying, “It’s all fun and games until somebody gets hurt,” is so true. Bobby raced into the house, livid and in pain. I felt so bad for him, and I watched my daughter comfort him as best she could while not saying much. After she helped him with his snow-encrusted boots, coat, snow pants, and gloves, Bobby just sat. I mean, just sat. My daughter even mentioned that he looked as though he was shell shocked. I wonder what was going through his mind. Meanwhile, my son-in-law gave the word to the others that it was time to break it up for the day, and called my granddaughter–who didn’t know what had happened so abruptly so as to end the wrestling match–inside.

Everything had happened so fast, and it’s really only now–a day later–that I myself am processing the whole, short episode where things had gone from great to crap in an instant. I began to see it from a 10-year-old girl’s perspective: her friend needed her help, so she reacted! What seemed like a good idea at the time had turned out very badly. How many times do we ourselves do that? I know I do or say things without giving them any thought, and I regret my behavior afterwards. I think we all do that sometimes. Sometimes many times.

Today is Sunday, and we have family dinner together every week. Today it’s at our house. I think it might be a good idea for all of us to talk about what happened yesterday. The friend has since texted her apology, but I’m not sure Bobby’s forgiven her. This just might open the door to a good discussion topic: Forgiveness. Simply letting go. It isn’t saying that something is ok…it’s just letting it go. It frees up our minds to think about other things besides the wrong we think has been done to us. After all, ‘things’ are neither good nor bad; they just are.

Grand-parenting is almost like a second chance to do ‘parenting’ the right away, only it’s actually guidance this time around. And, among the many things I’ve learned as I meander on my journey through Life is that resentments are apt to eat us alive. Best to let it go and move on. Today’s another day!

To err is human; to forgive, divine. Alexander Pope