Spent the day with grandma and grandpa, which means I have tons to say, and even more to reflect on when it comes to life, work, love, and family.
On the surface my grandparents may seem to have the typical 80+ snydrome where you talk alot about aches and pains and how everything sucks. But once you finish lunch, put away the dishes, and gather around the fireplace with them, that is when the magic happens.
Sometimes, I admit, I set it off on purpose. I’ll ask a leading question, maybe because Ive got my camera ready to record the magical response… I’ll ask: So how old where you when you started working grandma? And she won’t give me a second look… no hesitation… she breaks right into “Oh.. me… 9 years old. I was nine years old and my father made me guide the cows because the cows never knew where they were going and it was during the olive harvest and …” She goes on and on for hours. And you know what? I don’t mind one bit.
Maybe I’ve even heard half the stories already.. but I don’t care. I want to hear them again. I want to burn them into my head. I sometimes catch myself daydreaming while grandpa talks.. picturing how I will tell my children about their great grandparents. I’ll tell them the stories about the wine harvest and the great-great grandfather who was the town poet… it will all be told as if I was there. Because I will adopt these stories as mine.. because when it comes down to it.. they are.