Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Granddad smoking his pipe by the fire, Nana in an apron with a dishtowel in her hand, my Dad pushing the lawn mower, Uncle Jim tinkering in the garage, Mum changing my little brother, aunt Betty stirring a pot at the stove. Family.
It was a way of life. Nothing was wasted. It was a time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, the oven door, a hem on a dress. Things we keep. Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more. Waste meant affluence. We weren't affluent, we were the average middle class family.
But then, Granddady passed suddenly, and on that clear cold spring morning, in the warmth of Nana's kitchen, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't anymore. Sometimes what we care about most gets all used up and goes away .... never to return. So, while we have it, it's best we love it, care for it, and when it's broken fix it ....and heal it when it's sick.
Some things we keep. This is true for marriage ... old cars ... children with bad report cards ... dogs and cats with bad hips ... aging siblings, parents and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it.
There are just some things that make life important... like people we know who are special, like a best friend who moved away or a classmate we grew up with. Some things we keep. Good friends are like stars ... you don't always see them, but you know they are there.....
I received this from some one who thinks I'm a keeper.