We have hard wood floors in our house. They are real hard wood floors, not the kind you have to sand down twice a year like my grandfather had years and years ago, but the kind you can clean by rubbing a nice clean sock on the spill. I don’t have to think about the upkeep of the floor, really. I just spend a few minutes on them every once in a while, with an actual mop, and I forget about them for the next several days. Considering the level of slactitude in my house, it is amazing that it even gets done once a week. Needless to say, I like them, I am glad I have them, and they are considered very special when visitors see them, but I don’t really think much about them on a daily basis. Who would really? I am sure there is some internet site out there about someone’s obsession with hard wood floors…
My grandfather was in town recently, and we had quite a few conversations about our hard wood floors. I hadn’t really thought much about them till those conversations. Funny how you our thoughts work when you really focus on something.
I have also been thinking about my grandfather lately. Again, funny how you our thoughts work when you really focus on something. He is a hard man, who had a hard, hard life. You can tell by his calloused hands that he was no stranger to working hard. He is hard to talk to, not because he has nothing to say, but because you have to scream at him to have him hear you. As hard as he is, there was something soft about him, a shine in his eyes, like the shine on the hard wood floors, I don’t remember noticing until this visit.
He didn’t want to come on this trip, I know. His bones ache and his arthritis is so bad, that travel is not fun for him. He is set in his ways and likes his own space, so the trip was not his idea of a great time. So the fact that he was actually coming was a big surprise to everyone, I think. But as the trip progressed, as he visited with family and friends and talked about old times and times to come, I could see that spark in his eye. He was actually glad he came, I know. And I am glad he came too.
You see, my grandfather, like those hard wood floors, is tough, and a relationship with him is something I take for granted, something I hadn’t worried too much about maintaining. I realized this weekend, that family is the most important thing to him. It is the thing that makes him shine. I also realized that I needed to not just rub a clean sock across my relationship with my grandfather, I need to get rid of my slactitude and work hard at polishing and maintaining my relationship with him. Maybe one day, I can stand back and look at my relationship with my grandfather and admire it, like I now admire my hard wood floors.
