The Humbled Critic

Friday night, the kid and I drove to Jonesboro to attend a family reunion of sorts Saturday morning in Missouri. My mom, grandmother, the kid, and I left at 9.

We stopped at a cemetary to visit the graves of my grandmother's uncle and a few others. She brought along flowers to lay on the ground in front of them. Morrigan asked why she was doing that and my grandmother replied, "To let them know they are loved." She then turned and began to say something to me. I turned around and Morrigan was getting more flowers out of the back of the car and placing them on every grave within sight. She would stop in front of them, read their name out loud and then she laid a flower down. We waited for 30 minutes while she did this. No one rushed her or even questioned what she was doing.

I realized at that moment how unyielding the compassion of a child is. She thought that every person there deserved to be loved and spent her time making sure of it. The idea of a cemetary didn't scare her. I wanted to cry. She understood what most of us ignore...a moment taken for someone, even a complete stanger, isn't a moment wasted.

We made it home from the reunion of "So you're Paul's granddaughter" at around 6.

That night, I went out and spent time with someone who means a great deal to me. The more time I spend with him, the more necessary he becomes to the quality of my life. I find myself looking at him and wondering what he will be like in 20 years. I have never actually entertained the idea of "tomorrow" with anyone. I know from the beginning that it will end, and end quickly but this time this rule doesn't apply. My family adores him, Morrigan holds his hand and begs him to play with her, and I feel as if, for once, I have found something I ignored the absence of. I enjoy the things about him that he doesn't notice, that most probably overlook. This saddens me but at the same time, fills me with elation that I do see these things, I enjoy them, and I love him.