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Everything Happens For a Reason

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A divine symbol? Maybe not, but I can't see what else this morning was supposed to mean when added to this afternoon. Or, I could just be over-analyzing as always.


This morning, after a dreadful swim practice (if only for the reason of frigid weather, less than half of the showers working at the pool and an agonizing stomach ache), I went home with my friend where we would kill time and get ready for school on another late-start Wednesday. After dressing, doing the ordinary make-up and discussing boys, my friend and I ate breakfast and hurried into her grandfather's car, because both her parents work. Not normally do I run into people with the exact same voice as my grandfather, whom I have deliberately not maintained contact with except the mandatory "hi"s and visits. Seeing this coincidence as abnormal, I reflected on my grandfather's age and what that means. He will not be present for me as I get my actual first job, as I graduate college or even as I walk down the aisle (if I ever do). My grandfather is a temporary gift, something that will eventually wither and fade as flowers do after the first winter's frost. So, after I walked through the door of my house, placed my bags down and ate, I called my grandfather. Title it fate, or just a coincidence, but my grandfather, who seldom answers the phone, picked it up today when I called. From then, we continued to talk aimlessly about books, farms, singers at my mother's wedding and other random topics. But while the points of conversation may not have been meaningful, the conversation itself was. I spoke, for a solid thirty minutes to a man that is fundamental in how I came to be (literally, I would not be here without his existence) and it does not matter the topic on which we spoke. Instead, the fact that we did talk does. He could be gone tomorrow, without as much warning as a deer dashing into the road while your eyes and fingers are on the radio controls. And perhaps he will be gone...in a week, three months, two years, but I want to hold onto the pieces of him that I can: the conversations about irrelevant subjects, the laughs that I will forever cherish, and the memories along with way.





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