REFLECTIONS: You’re only as old as you feel
Oh, to know this grandpa and grandma is certainly to love them. I do. Know them. Love them. Can’t help it. Wouldn’t want it any other way. You see, they live life to the fullest. They not only live it, they teach others things about the really important things in life, like loving and laughing. Enjoy the company of old friends, young children, and all those in between.
Had an opportunity over the weekend to take some time to spend some time. There were lots of people. Little bitty kids who sat beneath a table with an orange covering. All you could see was feet. A couple bigger kids crawled in and out of sight as well. Save their feet.
I wanted in that little girl memory part of me, to crawl right in and sit with them, but I hesitated. Didn’t want to look silly among the adults, and yet …
At one point, this grandpa met my glance his way with a camera with a bit of look of surprise. And we both laughed, and then he went right back to carving. Stretched across the long porch were children of all ages. One yet to be born, still snuggled in his mama’s tummy, waiting maybe for Nov. 17. The oldest child among the many? Maybe 90. Grandpa. A pumpkin carver, lover of life, lover of people, ones in tummies and all those in between that one and this grandpa.
Especially that one over there. The one with the two little grandgirls straddling her back, waiting for this wonderful loving, laughing lady to give them another ride. She had been on all fours, moving among the people, then just sort of plopped. Went flat. And the giggles grew to laughter throughout the whole house. Inspired by their’s. Fueled by hers. And joined by everyone.
So it was that night. Big grins. Eyes smiling. Many pumpkins carved by many pumpkin-carvers, but there was something special about watching this really neat grandpa, this really neat grandma, seeing the love, hearing the laughter.
The thought still comes. Next time. Next time when I’m a bit too stuffy to admit I really do want to carve a pumpkin, and a bit to bashful to get down on the floor and be a spare horse, or fighting the urge to crawl under the table and let my big ol’ ugly toes hang out among those itty-bitty baby and bigger boy ones maybe I’ll just do it.
Instead of just being the picture taker of the memories, perhaps I’d best get on with making some. For me. Maybe you. And, hey? What about you? When did you last carve a pumpkin? Been a horse to a toddler lately? Hmm? When did you last laugh hysterically at the fun someone else was having just for the sake of having fun? It’s time. Ask the grandpa who knows to carve a pumpkin and a grandma who plays horsey for her grandbabies. Ah, the making of memories. Love the ones they provided. Now, it’s our turn. Ready? Go.