They used to say that every seven years, every cell in your body is replaced. No idea whether they still say such things, but I know for certain I am not the same woman I was in my early 20s. I came to this realization as I sat across from Valerie in a downtown restaurant, watching her put her head down on the booth seat and stick her butt in the air for the sixth or seventh time. The horror with which the old me would have greeted this sight versus the laissez-faire mood current me had could not have been more different.
Valerie and I had a day to ourselves, not unlike the classic children's book Just Grandma and Me by Mercer Mayer. She even brought along a large Critter plushie (the main kid character in that book series.) We started with a car wash, which got a little intense for her while the cover to the sunroof was pulled back, so she could see the brushes coming at her from all sides. Then we went to Lowe's for a tomato cage, and two doors down to Bed Bath and Beyond to pick the carcass of a closing store. I wanted to find towel hooks to change the setup in my bathroom. I found a few, but they aren't attractive. I got them anyway. I also found an all Tencel sheet set. I wish the discounts had been deeper, but I'm not gonna get tied in knots over it.
When we went out to lunch, we switched from the Critter book to Are You My Mother? by P.D. Eastman. Val was facing the windows on Main Street, and across the street were workers putting new trees in along the sidewalk. Val was hyperfocused on the skid steer, calling it a "snort." (Read the book if you don't remember.) At one point, she was standing in her seat, pointing at it, saying, "Grandma, take a picture of the snort!" I took video of that to show the family group chat.
I thought the best store was the one I saved for last. That was a trip to the Flower Bin so she could pick out her own plant to go in the bumblebee planter Grandpa got for her. I had set the tiny rhipsalis I picked out for me in it a month ago, telling her it was temporary and we would get her a plant later. I need to repot my plant in a deeper planter for its own sake. So we went shopping for hers today. We walked through all the displays, Valerie touching ev-er-y-thing she could reach. Every wind chime and garden decoration were lovingly caressed. Eventually we meandered to the tiny terrarium plants. I showed her the two inch pots, and said she could have any one she wanted, as long as it came in that size. They had a ton of things, and I kept pointing out different species. Ferns. Hoyas. Both pink and green syngoniums. A green and white striped dracena. We looked at it all. And she stuck with the thing she selected at the very beginning: another rhipsalis. It made my head hurt, but a promise is a promise. I meant what I said and I said what I meant. A grandmother is indulgent, one hundred percent.
No comments:
Post a Comment