It is so sad how many of those seemingly meaningless stories that had once so abundantly flowed from my grandparent's lips have long since been forgotten. It's just such a pity that Mother Nature couldn't have devised a better plan in raising mankind's maturity level just a bit sooner, so that today's bumbling youth could at least have the chance to truly appreciate the declining gift that sits right in front of them. But unfortunately, this cruel world has decided to age these beautiful storytellers in such a way that their unique and wondrous tales are usually lost in a bubble of dementia, quickly drifting up towards the heavens, faster than we could ever have imagined.
But thankfully, sometimes the red in our eyes clears faster then expected, and those who choose to, will indeed see the things that truly matter in this world. And that is what happened to me around the time my grandfather died, when my window of insight suddenly opened, letting in the fresh air of epiphany. It made me realize that it was now time to start calling my remaining grandmothers on a weekly basis, and to begin opening my ears to the things they had been so quietly shouting at me since the day I was born.
So I began calling them every Sunday, no matter where I was or what I was doing; becoming a member of that very small, almost microscopic group of selfless people who I'd feared for most of my life. But I soon realized that to be in this group, meant more than just picking up the phone. It meant that not picking up the phone would now hold dire consequences. This was because, to them, the very ring of my call was like the smell of crisp bacon. The echo of my voice like an angel singing. This unexpected effort that I had decided to put forth had become their addiction, running through their souls like crack cocaine. And for that to be lost, for those Sunday calls to be silenced, became much too awful to even imagine.
It's hard to believe that I've been making these calls for almost seven years now. The dialing of their number, the sounds of their happy hellos, feels almost like breathing. And in the beginning, I'd always figured they'd forever be the ones who reaped its reward, but surprisingly, that couldn't be any farther from the truth. Their joy, their sadness, and the mere connection of our voices, has been more special to me than I could ever have dreamed. And I can only hope, that one day, I can help rub the film from someone else's eyes, so that they may too experience the impact a simple conversation can have on one's life.
