If you find yourself standing on the edge of something scary, or if you’ve recently taken a tumble into the muck of life, remember the woman in the floral housecoat.
"Grandma, you're wet!" I shouted, my voice cracking with a mix of panic and the cruel, unfiltered observation of a child. My Grandmother -Grandma- you-re wet- -Final- By...
As we age, the fear of falling often replaces the joy of walking. We become tentative. We stay on the paved paths. My grandmother, in what would be the final decade of her life, chose the opposite. She realized that the "Final" chapter isn't about preservation; it’s about exhaustion. It’s about sliding into home base, dirty and tired, having played the whole game. If you find yourself standing on the edge
"The river doesn't care who your daddy is," she said as I helped pull her toward the grass. "And life doesn't care how much you spent on your dress. If you’re going to live, child, you’re going to get wet. You might as well enjoy the cool of the water while you're down there." Living in the "Final" Chapter We become tentative
Don't spend your energy trying to stay dry. The water is where the fish are. The mud is where the lilies grow. And the laughter? The laughter is what stays behind long after the clothes have dried.
I whispered to her, "Grandma, you're wet," a callback to our private joke.