Make a Gift of the Irreplaceable
She was a girl to catch everyone’s attention.
Her blonde hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. And her blue eyes shimmered with youth. The pink dress fit smartly and matched beautifully with her still-pinker shoes.
She slipped her hand into the man’s hand and skipped playfully out the door with her thumb stuck in her mouth. I suspect she was not much more than three years old.
Her grandfather seemed kind. Their conversation was that of only a three-year-old and someone of grandfather age: easy, comfortable, and simple. It seemed to me that they were on a McDonald’s date. I know nothing of their story—only what I observed of them from my perch. It was cute.
Most of all, it made me think. I never knew my grandfather on either side of my family. On my mom’s side, he’d passed away in another country long before I would have met him. And on my father’s side, it was alcohol and the miles that kept us separated.
And it occurred to me, what a great gift this little girl with the pink dress possessed: time with her grandfather. How often I need to be reminded in my own life, with my spouse, with my children, to give this gift. It’s the gift of time, and it is irreplaceable.