Margot and Nani’s Bond
Across generations and cultures, grandmothers have often carried a kind of love that feels almost ancient in its softness. A slower love. A patient love. The kind that nourishes children not through perfection, but through presence, humor, touch, ritual and delight. Many of us do not fully realize the emotional safety a grandparent creates until their suitcase is zipped shut and the home suddenly feels quieter.
My mom, Margot and Mila’s “Nani,” left today to return to India after 8 weeks with us. She stayed with us in Florida, traveled to La Jolla on vacation with us, and then returned to Florida for her final couple of weeks.
Margot received from Nani something that feels straight out of a child’s dreams — pure love.
Pure, unconditional, teasing, laughing, singing, dancing, silliness, love.
The kind of love that makes you want to look into another person’s eyes and know you are completely safe to be yourself with them. Completely yourself. Accepted exactly as you are. What a gift for a three-year-old toddler who is just beginning to understand her own emotions.
Margot and Nani shared a bedroom while on vacation.
Margot took the floor bed while Nani slept on the sofa bed. They were infectiously sweet together, reading books that felt new to both of them. They played with toys, loved waking up side by side, and lingered in their room together until breakfast.
Margot wanted nothing more than to be with Nani.
Nani, with her flexibility, zest for life, compassion and exceptional sense of humor, is simply a delight to be around.
Mornings with Nani were spent peeking over her shoulder to see what she was making for breakfast. Already midway through cooking by the time the rest of us made our way downstairs at 7 a.m., the kitchen smelled of warmth and comfort from her lovingly prepared meals.
One evening, I walked over to our neighborhood playground and watched Nani hold our neighbor’s daughter while making her laugh as the child’s mother smiled nearby.
Another morning at the playground, Nani watched a group of toddlers playing and asked me, “Do you think Mark was just as cute as a toddler? I think so.”
The real treat was our family Easter egg hunt. Nani didn’t realize Easter egg hunts were not meant to be competitive.
I watched her run as fast as she possibly could, determined to collect as many eggs as she could so her grandchildren could “win.” The cultural confusion was so unexpectedly funny to me that I burst into uncontrollable laughter while trying to keep up with the kids and with her still collecting eggs.
I think Margot is going to miss her best friend, her joking buddy, endlessly.
She will feel the void deeply, and so will we.
What a tender part of life this is — loving a grandmother so deeply while oceans and continents exist between visits.
Nani, we miss you already. Thank you for the eight beautiful weeks that will live in our hearts forever.
Children may not remember every outing, toy or routine from early childhood, but they remember how love felt in someone’s presence. They remember softness. Laughter. Safety. The feeling of being delighted in exactly as they are. And perhaps that is the quiet magic grandparents carry — they remind children, and even us as adults, that life does not always need to move quickly to feel meaningful