I have lived to witness six generations on my maternal side, beginning with my great grandmother, who lived to be one hundred and two, my grandmother, my mother and then there is me. Our son and his wife came next, producing two handsome grandsons. They represent the fifth and sixth generations. But nothing has made me more aware of the cycle of life than the birth of an adorable baby boy to our daughter and her husband over two years ago - little William.

Our son's two boys are now young men, each occupied with their own interests, so what a delight it has been to watch little William progress from infancy to an inquisitive little boy, so busy he scarcely has time to succumb to sleep. Each day he amazes me with new words and the ability to communicate. In his attempt to gain some measure of control of his environment, words sometimes fail him and in frustration he flattens himself on the floor in tears. But when he asks for something, following it with "Peeze, Maw Maw," it's impossible to refuse. After all, isn't that a prerogative of a grandparent to spoil a grandchild?

I look at William and think of all the genetic factors involved in the creation of this little personality. It gives me a sharp awareness of all the generations before him and all the lives that preceded him...his inquisitive nature perhaps inherited from Uncle "G," his love of music from his father and paternal grandparents, his artistic ability from his mother and who knows from how far back other traits have evolved. In looks, the small, turned-up nose must surely come from my husband's side of the family, but those big, blue eyes, which amaze everyone, are definitely from his father's side.

With his little hand in mine, William and I take walks, and he stops to gather some pretty pebbles or watch with delight as a squirrel jumps from limb to limb of a tree. He is an explorer, discovering all the delights of the world in which he lives and making me more aware of the beauty in small things I have long taken for granted. His laugh, a gleeful chuckle, is contagious, and I find myself joining in with whatever amuses him. He is all boy. My daughter's doll house is no longer inhabited by small dolls but by little cars.

Perhaps, according to Mr. Shakespeare, husband and I have reverted to the second and third stages of life. Sitting on the floor working puzzles or building block skyscrapers with William would certainly imply that we are enjoying our second childhood. He enhances our lives. He is unique and there is certainly no one else on earth exactly like him. Such is the cycle of life.