cosmetics

"Taking joy in living is a woman's best cosmetic." -Rosalind Russell

Stories

When my grandpa came down to Loma Linda for the International Vegetarian Congress in February, he also came to visit me. My grandma wasn't able to attend, but she sent him with a camera, so he could catch her up on all my doings. He took pictures of my house, my yard, my boyfriend washing dishes... everything.

He had a little bits of advice on this and that... my migraines, my studies, my love life.

And at the end of his trip, he made a special visit to my house to make sure he hadn't been too nosy. Which, of course, I told him he hadn't been... because I knew his intentions were good.

On Saturday evening of that weekend, we were all sitting in my dining room snacking and sharing stories. In fact I think we were even eating some homemade ice cream, which is probably what spurred my grandpa's memory of a long ago camping trip. As the story went, it was our second annual "cousins + Grandaddy only camping trip." During the previous year's trip, we had stopped at the campground's restaurant to buy ice cream cones. And naturally, to my six-year-old-self, it was a memory that stuck. As this camping trip was drawing to a close and the final night was upon us, I went to my grandpa and whispered in his ear, "Grandaddy, are we going to continue our tradition of getting ice cream cones?" How could he refuse?

And a tradition was started.

I miss my grandpa's stories. He was full of them. And that's just what has been bothering me lately. It's like a whole lifetime of stories are gone now. Sure, some of those stories are known by others, but like the story of my ice cream tradition - some of those stories aren't known by anyone else.

Just think about how wonderful heaven is going to be. When we can all sit together and none of the stories will be forgotten.