Why I'll Inevitably Bore My Grandchildren! (Happily)

When I was a young child my Mother would  take my older sister and I to visit my grandpa whenever he came to Florida to vacation. It was always a bombard of bittersweet exchanges, pleasantries over a shared meal. Its been too longs and how have you beens. We would eat and conversation  would flow easier, I would laugh til our cheeks hurt, as my grandpa was a extremely funny man. As a child I never fully understood  the unspoken thoughts floating in the room, "why haven't we spoken in so long?" followed by a silent "What would we even say?" My grandpa lived an amazingly eventful life, one I'm sure I only know a portion of from his stories I collected over the years. One story though he told me every single  time we met. 

It always started the same.

"Your mother and her brother  where sitting down one evening in front of the TV while I was trying to read something. Your mom asked for some water, since she couldn't reach yet... so,  I asked your uncle to go get some water for her. He wasn't happy about it but got up to give her the water. He brings back a mug of water and hands it to your mom who screams at the top of her lungs like shes being murdered..why? Your uncle had given her HOT water!" At this point in my grandpa's story him and my mom would always share a look and laugh and he'd conclude with "And I couldn't  be mad but darling that's the last time I asked your uncle to do ANYTHING without clear instructions!" Another signature laugh.

As child I loved this story for the fact that I got a glimpse into my mother's life as a child too. I remember  thinking "dang so she knows the struggle of annoying  siblings too!" But as time went on even I'll admit even I grew tiered  of hearing it EVERYTIME we met. until I never heard the story again. Then I missed it tremendously.

As an adult with children of my own, this story comes to mind often among the bickering I over hear, replaying though my mind just as my Grandpa would recite it, darling and all. Now I love this story even more for the understanding I gained that it wasn't for me that he told this story at all. It was for my mother, and for himself. 

I still remember the thunderous laugh they would share over it. It was their story. A way for them to time travel into a specific memory. He told this story every single time because my grandpa and my mother didn't get alot of time together when she was younger and this was a time that he knew she would always remember with him. A time they could always laugh about together. 

Being a parent now myself I understand that there are memories being stored away in my mind to recite to my own children in hopes of sharing that spark of lost time, hopfuly one day very very  far from now. This thought reminds me to stop and focus on not just making memories and moments that will pass by to be remembered someday but to make fond memories my family enjoys together in the now. Respectively my grandpa and my mother grew closer later on in life, but its a different case with my own children as they have two involved,  in love parents, and even though cases can show both those things are not necessary  to raise a family... I for one am forever grateful for the love of my life's eternal etchment into the fond memories I will inevitably bore my grandchildren with. 

-You laugh, I laugh -

-AMB-AFALOZ-