Because one day, these kids will look back.
They won’t remember the level they reached in a game.
They won’t remember the trending video they watched ten times.
They will remember where their brain felt quiet for the first time.
They will remember who finally said, “You don’t have to keep up. You’re enough right here, in the yard, with grass stains on your knees.”
Some people will say I’m being dramatic.
That kids are fine.
That “we turned out okay.”
But look around.
Anxiety is up.
Exhaustion is normal.
Everyone is always “busy,” and no one feels like they’re really living.
Maybe our grandkids aren’t the ones who are broken.
Maybe they’re the ones telling the truth.
Leo did not thank me for saving his childhood.
Eight-year-olds don’t give speeches.
He just pressed his cheek against my arm while we watched the sky turn pink, and he whispered, “Nana, do you think the clouds ever get tired of moving so fast?”
I looked up at the sky, then back at him.
“I think,” I said, “they’re glad they get to slow down at sunset.”
He nodded like that made perfect sense.
So here is my invitation—and my challenge.
Parents, you are fighting a hard battle in a loud world.
Grandparents, we are not retired from that battle.
We are required.
Required to be slow when everyone else is fast.
Required to be present when everyone else is distracted.
Required to be the place where the buzzing finally stops.
Be the quiet harbor.
Be the “boring” house.
Be the reason some future adult says, “When I thought I was going to drown, there was this one backyard, this one porch, this one old person who showed me what it felt like to breathe.”
Thank you so much for reading this story!
I’d really love to hear your comments and thoughts about this story — your feedback is truly valuable and helps us a lot.
Please leave a comment and share this Facebook post to support the author. Every reaction and review makes a big difference!
This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment and inspirational purposes. While it may draw on real-world themes, all characters, names, and events are imagined. Any resemblance to actual people or situations is purely coincidenta
