Small Things Have a Way of Adding Up by Sandy Brannan

Some things are so simple that we don’t see their importance.

I find, as I get older, that it’s the simple memories that come back to me.

I remember the way my grandfather made me feel loved when he let me comb his hair. I can close my eyes and see myself standing behind his chair with his small black comb in my hands. I would take what little hair he had and part it down the middle. We would laugh and say he looked like Dagwood in the funny papers. It was such a small thing, but it has stayed with me. Now that I’m a grandmother, I look back at all the time my grandfather spent with me, whether it was when he let me comb his hair or when he took me fishing, or the times I climbed into his huge car with him to go to the store where he would always let me pick out one treat and one drink. I can still taste those chocolate brownie drinks that only came in glass bottles.

My own children are grown now, and I often find myself thinking about their childhood. I love when they share with me the tiny things I did as a mother that have stayed with them. They laugh when they talk about how I would talk like our cat Tiger or when I would pretend to be a waitress as I fixed their lunch.

Simple things that were so much more important than I realized back then. You see, I wasn’t thinking about the future or their memories in those days. I was just being their mom, completely unaware of how they would carry a part of me with them forever.

I have grandchildren now, and I’m very much aware that I’m creating memories. I think about it in a way that I didn’t when I was younger. I’m intentional with my words and my actions because I know what I do now will stay with them long after I’m just a memory. And I want them to have all the memories. I know it’s not the big gestures that will stay with them. It’s the times I take out a package of q-tips and use them to create an elaborate road for their little cars.  Some may say I wasted perfectly good Q-tips, but I know better. It’s also a bit messy, but guess what? Messes can be cleaned up, but the memories I’m making will always be there.

When I see those little black combs, I see my grandfather. When my children see a tabby cat, I hope they remember all the car rides when I talked like our Tiger all the way to school. When my grandchildren see q-tips, I want them to smile. I want them to remember those roads their grandmother built as she crawled around on the floor with them.

Small things have a way of adding up. They also have a way of being important without you even realizing it.

Some people go for the grand gestures, and that’s fine. Those are good memories too.

But I see the beauty in the places where others might not. I’m so glad I do.