There's no pain greater to parents than to see their child suffering. The same holds true for grandparenting.
Two weeks ago, my 23-month-old granddaughter, Evie, and I were slowly swinging in a hammock, reading a book, on my screened-in back porch. Suddenly, a rope supporting the hammock broke, dropping it and us down three feet onto a hard concrete/tile floor.
The hammock is a big deal to my two young granddaughters and me.
First, it signifies warm weather. I typically don't get it out until mid-April, but this year I put it up the second week in March so we could enjoy the early spring.
Second, we enjoy the peacefulness of rocking back and forth in it. We sit in it to listen to the birds, sing songs and read books. Even when it rains, we can enjoy our time in the hammock.
Evie and I were home by ourselves the morning the hammock collapsed. Evie was sitting next to me, and we both hit the floor when it broke. She immediately started crying. I was terrified she had suffered a spinal injury. But when I reached out to pick her up, she jumped in my arms.
It's one of those moments in life that you're just so completely thankful. It's the ultimate joy and a reminder for never taking anything for granted. One moment you're sitting in a hammock enjoying a beautiful spring day with your precious granddaughter, and a split second later you're wondering if you need to call an ambulance.
I've been sitting on a heating pad since we fell (my injury is healing). Evie is fine, but she still doesn't want to sit in the hammock.