Grandmother and granddaughter sitting on a park bench, bonding over books.
The thumbnail photo of this bronze sculpture caught my attention when I scanned Sugar Land’s Public Art brochure. Of the ten such sculptures in the city, this is the only one I really cared to see.
Something about young and old, innocence and wisdom, reading and sharing. And the precious grandchildren in my own life.
When I arrived at the park entrance, I found no hints—maps, signage, arrows, etc.—of where this pair sat.
How did I know to start at ten? Why not eight, or three or…
Intuition? Silly girl, I thought. Be grateful and walk toward them.
Along the way, I spotted alligators and paint‐can art. A dog learning to frisbee. A baby taking its first steps.
Picture taking and future blog posts. Of course.
As I walked, the bright‐shining sun and a clear blue sky sparkled on my shoulders. Seventy degrees, the phone tells me. Mid‐December? Winter begins in four days?
When I finally stood before the Grandmother and Granddaughter sculpture, B’s assaulted my vision: binoculars. book. bear. backpack. birds. bun. bench. braids. boards. buckles. blouse. buttons.
Twelve in a single shot. Why all the B’s? And why did I notice? Is that what real writers do?
Clean shot, I thought.
Only at home do I spot the next B. As in sunBeam.
The ray of sunlight was not there when I snapped the picture. I promise.
When I saw the light, the word followed: Beam.
My, that sounds like a song. Or a Bible verse. Egad. I digress.
Back to a photograph. We’re up to a baker’s dozen of B’s.
One final B surfaces as I stare at the image. It’s less obvious, but more special.
What happens when grandmothers and granddaughters Be together.
(Offered with heartfelt apologies to my writing teachers).
And now, we’re up to 15 B’s in a single Blog post.
Oops, that’s 16.
What a day for frisky, frivolous fun.
No F quiz follows.