Love Gaps

She filled that gap with time spent with her grandchildren, who were born year after year after year, mostly boys, all beautiful and vibrant. Many of them, too many to count, for her multiple children multiplied with zeal. She watched those babies grow from one year to the next, first all blonde haired and blue eyed and then different shades of both, into themselves. She changed their diapers and sang them to sleep, took them to the zoo and drove them around in her little green station wagon.

During these drives, and during the time they spent with her, they noticed things about her, repetitions that initially annoyed them but then eventually became token -isms that grew on them like moss grows on fairy homes. They noticed that she’d always apply lipstick before getting out of the car. She would stand in the doorway waiting for them to help her with her bags or her coat. Gum was always spat out before seeing her, posture straightened, dirt wiped from cheeks and profanities left at the door. These rules were what made them who they are today, the excellent citizens and positive influences on humanity.

Some of them grew up to study art, some of them became excellent fathers. Some traveled to opposite corners of the world to teach and study and fall in love. Some stayed right where they were and some wandered around searching for her in tall buildings and on ocean floors. They all ate well and treated strangers and enemies with respect. They broke hearts softly and loved fully. They all remembered not to say the word “like” out of context and they all appreciated the smell of sea and sand. With exquisite and unfeigned taste in music, art, and literature, they grew up. With keen senses and fatal flaws, her grandchildren each took on characteristics she’d predicted but would never know. Phenomenal athletes, stubborn fighters, sought-after employees, intense holders of beliefs, both democratic and republican and none of the above. They rounded out every facet that she’d ever imagined them to have.