Green Eggs and Granddaughters

She plunked down next to me on the sofa and placed the book down on my lap. Green Eggs and Ham. She looked up at me with those big, blue eyes and said shyly, "Would you like me to read this book to you, Grampy?"

I smiled, nodded and put one arm around her as we both settled down into the Dr. Seuss classic. I looked down at her - this slight, unassuming, completely innocent child with long, blond hair and the face of a seraphim. I watched her breeze through the easy words with self-pride, and I saw her struggle with the multi-syllable ones, sounding them out methodically with a furrowed brow.

Life is such an amazing and transient thing! Four short years ago, this perfect little being seated close to my side could barely speak. Now she was reading. Mastering language is supposed to be the brain's biggest trial and greatest feat, and here was this little five-year-old child working hard at it and succeeding wonderfully.

Green Eggs and Ham.

I looked over at my daughter, who was sitting in a chair next to us. I used to read this same book to her thirty-something years ago. And I remembered reading it for my own pleasure over a half-century ago when I was about the size of little Alyssa, who was now sounding out the words for the first time.

It was then that I thought about what an accomplishment this book is! What a legacy Dr. Seuss left behind! Countless millions of adults and children have had their lives altered in some way by his witty little rhymes and whimsical, fantastical drawings.

As I sat there, I felt myself melting. Melting into the warmth of that moment. Alyssa's voice filled the room with her soft yet childishly deliberate words. And all at once, there was nothing else in the entire universe except for Alyssa and me and Sam-I-Am.

The warm glow of peace and contentment wrapped around the three of us, and the world was a beautiful, fantastic, magical, safe and loving place, and, all at once, I found all of this wonderful emotion filling up my eyes and overflowing down my cheeks.

I looked down at the little yellow-headed girl sharing the sofa with me, and I thought, Sweetheart, your Grampy is not a very brave man. Oh, I've done my share of fighting, and, when my back was against the wall, I would stand up for what I thought was right, but I have lived a good portion of my life scared out of my wits. Be that as it may, I know this to be a fact: I love you so very much that I would, in a heartbeat, lay down my life for you if I had to.

All of this went through this old man's head as I sat there on the sofa in my daughter's living room with my firstborn grand child.

When the book was finished, Alyssa closed it and looked up at me, asking, "How'd I do, Grampy?"

I smiled down at her, stroked her corn silk hair, and said, "You did magnificently, sweetheart."

She then got up on her knees, wrapped her tiny arms around my neck, squeezed as hard as she could, kissed my cheek and whispered, "I love you, Grampy."

You know something? If I died right at that moment, I would have passed away with Heaven in my heart.