the grandpa-love thinktank. [part one.]

i could thinktank myself here for quite some time.

just circling.
round and round

in thoughts and convos.
just thinking

about the lovely wisdom.
journal-ed from generation to generation.

to love
means to commit oneself without guarantee.

to give
oneself completely. in the hope that your love will produce love in the loved person.

i am consistently
frustrated. about boygirl love.

alright, who am i trying to trick here.

i get frustrated. with all looks of love.
and all of its varied outlets and outfits.

but the boygirl love. oh man.

it’s a doosie.

so
last christmas,
i went skiing with all the relatives.

all of them.
and there are many of us.

and it is quite the array of different
interests and personalities.

and i remember thinking,
[for the first holiday-time ever.]
how in the mess. will i ever be able to invite a boy into this.

where would he fit. and how would i explain everyone.
and how would i explain how i fit so well with everyone.

and i was frustrated. and dad and marms could read me.
but how is a girl supposed to explain this to her dad and marms.

without dad taking it personally. or wishing he could rewind
me back to teacups and trolls and twirling batons in the cul-de-sac.

and well, that marms. she just gets excited
that there might be a boy in the picture.

[which there wasn’t. for realsies.]

i just remember thinking,
how does this work. how are you supposed to merge two separate families.

and how will he fit in. with uncle ed and aunt ingrid.

this seems
too complicated. too risky.
too meet-the-fockers dramatic.

and grandpa noticed, too.
after i became all snappy.

and he said,
angela. you like coffee. take a walk with me. downstairs to the ski lodge café.

and we did.

and we talked. and dissected
dreams and aspirations. and
family dynamics.

and then i said,
how does it happen. i don’t get it. i am convinced. that boygirl love is a phenomenon. and that successful marriage must be a miracle.

and grandpa agreed.

and i ranted and rioted and waved my hands all above my head. about how i’d never experienced it. but i had been watching and learning. and analyzing. and i kept repeating my observations, like i was this prodigy of an intuitive learner. or something. and about how i was addicted to being the third wheel to my dating friends.

i declared that boygirl love seemed like this ridiculous miracle.

and grandpa agreed again,
because you’ve never experienced it, angela. it’s difficult to believe a miracle – a phenomenon involving two humans and an imperfect covenant – until you’ve felt it.

well shite.

that seems awfully risky, now doesn’t it.

and then grandpa
shared his story about meeting grandma.
and how they loved one another.

he told me more and more
about their 55(ish) year marriage.

and all of its everyday miracles.

i warned him.
that if this was just another family-history-story
like peter august,
i was going to move to australia.

but he assured me. that i wasn’t going to have to pack my backpack.
and that even if it was,
i didn’t need to be so theatrical. and talk about moving to australia.

—

alright. so,
this was his gig:

grandpa says,
when love is right.
it is right.
there is no grey in love.

you see, he met grandma francine.
while living
in a tin-roof town in alabama.

she was quite the hottie.
[and you still are, grandma.]

he would visit her office.
offering her a few noble and romantic gestures.

but she had already found another romantic man to date.

and grandpa thinks
that you must see someone for where they are.
that you can’t try to force something out of someone.
especially, if they aren’t ready to give.

and that you must know
that they may never be ready to give.

he suggests
that you should just be the best friend you can be to someone.

now, grandpa speaks with the thickest and loudest country accent i know.
and we were just sitting there. in the ski lodge cafe. and he shared,

grandmaw sometimes makes me do something i don’t like,
and sometimes i make her do something she don’t like.
but we just gonna keep makin each other pay. and we’re
gonna keep givin, while the other one is makin us pay.
that’s why we get along so well.

uh, really. grandpa?

sure. it’s a must-give, even when you think the other person is makin you pay.
because tomorrow, it might be the other way around. it’s humanity. but angela,
everybody’s life is not the same, you can’t mimic someone else’s. don’t try to mimic mine.

one thing we always talk about is to just wait on god and see.
he’s the one that is gonna bless what is happenin. and
if it even should be happenin. you can’t speed god up, ya hear.

i know. but then grandpa.
tell me. why does everyone write
how-to-love books.
and why are they always such bestsellers.

i dunno. we always want storybook answers, i suppose.

so. grandpa, is there one piece of advice that you think i should mimic
from your marriage miracle that lasted over fifty years?

yes. i like to laugh. and
i like to make everyone else laugh.
i think laughter is a part of love.
i’ve been laughing like a hyena for years.

—
people,
i want grandpa love.

i want to laugh like the hyenas.

i bet,
as long as there is some grandpa love.
i am sure anyone can fit-in. with any family.

of course, we all know.
that we must give credit where credit is due.

that really,
grandma love is what charges the grandpa love.

now, everyone.
recognize the love of grandma francine, please.

Tags: a prose essay., boy, family, for the girlsies., girl, IF., love, some GOSPEL thoughts., transparent thoughts.