grandma and grandpa

While I sat in a small booth at IHOP...I stared across the table at my Grandma and Grandpa as we enjoyed breakfast and coffee on a typical Wednesday morning.

And I realized...they amaze me.

I'm not sure if it is the fact they have been married for 51 years. Maybe it's their stories that they tell of days before my time. Maybe it's the way they make me feel as if I'm the most important person on earth. I haven't quite figured it out yet but they amaze me.

They ordered their usual decaf coffee and Grandpa submitted his typical "This booth is too small" complaint.

As we settled into our "too small" booth the wonderful smell of coffee and fried bacon filled the air. There we sat, my aging grandparents...and me.

When I was just a child, just four years old, I remember hanging out with my grandfather...doing important stuff like...eating cheese and crackers...watching TV...and drining soda. Once in awhile he would take me into the kitchen and sit me at the table with a pad of paper and a pencil. He taught me how to write my name in cursive...how to draw a rose...how to love my Grandpa. He always smelled good...like English Leather and kept his fingernails neatly manicured.

Then there is my Grandma. The woman that is famous for matching her clothes by color. Not necessarily match as in "match" but match as is green socks, green pants, green sweater, green earrings, and to top it off...green tennis shoes...all different shades of green. But...nevertheless, beautiful. She has always had a nak for crossword puzzles and guessing the phrases on Wheel of Fortune. My Grandma may be the only person that I have met in my lifetime that is the true definition of selflessness. I know there has not been one day in her life that she has put her needs in front of someone else's.

"They just don't make these booths for full-figured people" my Grandpa grumbled. "Oh be quiet" my Grandma responded. The waitress set down our breakfast orders and we began to do our favorite thing, eat. My Grandpa is a food artist. You may be wondering, "What in the heck is a good artist?". Well, I will tell you. He generally begins with this fork and knife and gracefully cuts up each thing on his plate. Gently folding his napkin, he arranges to his liking and carefully sprinkles the salt and pepper as if one shake too many would ruin the entire plate. And do not think for one second that one food is touching another...everything is neatly displayed on his plate as if it were that picture on the cover of a menu. Usually this routine lasts about 5 minutes and then he begins to eat. My Grandma and I were pratically finished by time my Grandpa wrapped up his routine.

I took this opportunity to present them with my exciting idea to leave Saint Louis and move to Chicago to finish up my degree in Urban Planning. And so I began. I explained my detailed plan of my move and shared my excitement in my decision to study Urban Planning after going through several years of life without knowing what I wanted to do. I brought up how I was fortunate that I discovered my passion before enrolling into the Nursing program at my school (which is where my path was headed a little less than a year ago). I went into further detail about volunteering with the The Old North Saint Louis Restoration Group in order to gain experience in my future career. I went on and on and on about how I've read everything I can about the school and how I've been saving my money so I can afford the move. "I love Chicago" I said with a smile on my face. And then I waited for their response...

"You know what a good job is? I'll tell you what a good job is. Physical Therapy!" my Grandpa said. "They need physical therapists...it's a good job..."

"Chicago, huh?" my Grandma said. "You've always loved Chicago...that's great"...and she smiled.

How have these two people been married for 51 years, I thought to myself.

As you are reading this...you may be wondering if my Grandpa's remark hurt my feelings...or the fact that he completely ignored everything that I said, bothered me. Well...no it did not. Because my Grandpa, after listening to my entire speech, did not hear a plan...he heard a dream. And, I've known for a long time that my Grandpa was never a dreamer he has always been a true realist. But regardless, I can appreciate that and I can definitely appreciate him and I love him anyway.

Most of my time that I spend with my Grandparents is spent in this very same way. We are usually eating, my Grandpa is usually talking but not listening and my Grandma is usually interrupting him which makes him mad but she doesn't care. And I love it.

After breakfast at IHOP, I kissed my Grandpa and Grandma good-bye and thanked them for breakfast. I left them as they got into the car and I made my way to work with a full belly. And I'm not sure why...but I cried. I cried because I loved their overly green outfits and grumbling comments. I cried because I look back at my 25 years and their two smiling faces have been there all the way. I cried because I realized that I could never have enough breakfasts with them that would make me certain that I would not miss them when they are gone. I cried because life is temporary.

I got to work and sat in the parking lot for a few minutes as I forced myself to realize that I can't go crying about the fact that my Grandparents are...well...old. I sat there and could still smell the English Leather tickling my nose.

How have they been married for 51 years? I'm not sure how but I do know one thing...

...they amaze me.