It is with great pride that I share how well my children have learned to make others feel special and happy. My grandmother called me the other day to let me know that she and my grandfather would be moving to a new home after 30 years in their current home, full of memories and more colors than I’ve ever seen in one home. It’s a fantastic home that screams personality and anything but subtle beauty, of which I have not seen the likes. I truly feel it tells me they are brave and strong and confident. And in the fabulously large living room, lies a piano that my grandmother and I used to play chopsticks and Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater for hours– many, many years ago—since I’m 25. And she hinted that I might want it. And I do. It’s just the 3000 miles between us and the weight of the piano that has held me back from moving it states away to my home. So we chatted about it, and I must have told the kids about the piano. Good lord, I forget I tell them things, and I wonder sometimes if I’m ever not talking. Do I even know if I’m talking or not? What do I even talk about?! It’s not like it was wrong for me to tell them, but I didn’t even remember.
And when my grandmother called to sing to my son for his birthday, my now 8 year old mentioned to her,
“So I heard my mom is going to take your old piano, since you’re going to heaven now.” I gasped. What?! How had he pulled that from a conversation about a piano and my grandparents moving? I need to tape myself. What the hell did I say? Did a plant die nearby as I was talking about the piano, and somehow the two topics became meshed in his busy brain? I unthinkingly, said “No, baby, she’s not going to heaven! She’s moving!” (not to the pearly gates, to a real home in a real town, where we can still visit!) And of course, I am aware that my grandmother heard this.
I called her back immediately after my son hung up. She was laughing hilariously. She and my grandfather were amazing and pulled the obvious and somewhat dark humor from the situation. I was sure that I loved her even more than before. And I also assured her, like an insecure child, that I did NOT tell my children she was going to heaven. I did, in fact, understand the difference between death and moving to a new home. She was probably relieved that I am THAT intuitive.
Yah, so that’s it. That’s the story. Happy Freaking Friday! Here’s to our kids keeping us on our toes. And here’s to those of us who have often felt the warmth of our toes across our tongues, as we once again stick our big fat freaking feet into our mouths. And here’s to the children who will carry on our legacy well after we are gone.