My Grandkid don’t know

 “My Grandkid don’t know…”

You don’t know yet
what it means to me
when you run to the door.

You don’t know that my whole drive over
I wondered if you’d remember me,
if I’d still be your favorite,
if time had stretched too long between visits.

And then the door opens
and you say my name—
not my real name,
the one you gave me—
and every worry dissolves.
You don’t know yet
that I replay that moment.
That I save it somewhere
nothing can touch.
You don’t know that when I leave
I sit in my car for a minute
just to hold the feeling
a little longer.

You don’t know that I pray for you
in the quiet hours
when the house is still
and the world is asleep.
You don’t know that your drawings
are on my refrigerator
like they belong in a museum.

You don’t know that the sound of your laugh
is the best sound
I have ever heard
in my entire life.
One day you’ll be older.
One day you’ll understand
what a grandchild does to a heart.

But for now—
just keep running to the door.
I’ll keep showing up
every single time.