Even her favorite toys

I walk around Ko'Olina a lot. I walk with Matt to work. After lunch, I walk him back again to his office. There's a cute little market around the corner I scoot over to if I need essentials like bananas or chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. 

Mostly, I see birds and tourists. And I think they're a lot alike: dressed brightly, chattering their own language, and on the constant look-out for snacks.

A few days ago, I passed a little blond girl and her grandmother. The child was decked out in all things sparkly, plus a lei that looked as though she had worn it for a week, even in bed. Although they were dressed for the beach and headed in that direction, they were completely immersed in conversation. 

Here's the bit that caught my attention. Little granddaughter said to her grandmother, "Even her favorite toys?" And grandmother replied, so gently, "Yes, even her favorite toys."

Clearly, this is a child committed to her stuff. Between the lei whose flowers were brown as her legs and the deep concern for another child's toys, I could easily picture her saying a special hello to each and every one of her dollies and games every time she opens her bedroom door.

Dear child. She's been on my mind, especially as I hoot for joy with every box I open and unpack. I love my stuff. I got so tickled when I unwrapped our coffee cups that I laughed out loud and cradled them like they were newborn babes. After I put on a favorite blouse I haven't seen for two months, I made Matt take my picture.

Here's what I think: it's okay, even lovely, to be attached to my precious books and pictures and earrings, as long as my grip is loose and my heart is full. And this, too: 

I long to be the kind of grandmother who answers questions gently.