I remember my grandmother’s expression from time to time as we sat chatting. A corner of her mouth slightly turned upward as she looked straight ahead, in thought. Her expression said, “I wonder what it would be like to reach that younger mind that knows it all yet knows nothing at all. Nonetheless, I still love her.”
I remember my mother’s stiff upper lip, lips pursed, staring upward, spurned. Her expression said she was angry and felt snubbed by her oldest daughter’s disdain for her wisdom. “As much as it hurts, I still love her.”
I remember my dad’s slight chuckle as he glanced down shaking his head. A little smile let me know that, even though he knew I didn’t know what I was talking about, he still loved me.
And now, I feel my grandmother’s expression, corner of my mouth turned upward as I hear my own children and grandchildren at times.
I feel my mother’s expression. Trying to not feel spurned, I still stare upward sometimes, stiff upper lip.
I feel my dad’s insight. Shaking my head, I try to smile, maybe even chuckle, because I want them to know I still love them.