S.H.M.I.L.Y.
Is it just me or does everyone believe in true love?
This story is from Chicken Soup for the Soul….it was written by a woman called Jean Allen…and I hope it inspires us all to try harder with love.
She writes....
My grandparents were married for more than 50 years. For all those years they played an amazing game….the goal was to write the word “shmily” in a surprise place for the other to find.
They took turns leaving “shmily” around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more.
They dragged “shmily” with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows… overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food colouring. “Shmily” was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave shmily on the very last sheet.
There was no end to the places “shmily” would pop up. Little notes with “shmily” scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. “Shmily” was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents’ house as the furniture.
Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other’s sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome an old man he had grown to be.
But it couldn’t last forever….cancer came and after 50 years together, Grandma was gone.
“Shmily.” It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother’s funeral bouquet. And as the crowd thinned at the graveside, my grandfather stood silently and shook with grief.
I will never forget that moment. I knew although I couldn’t begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its beauty.
S-h-m-i-l-y: See How Much I Love You.
Thank you, Grandma and Grandpa, for letting me see.
This story is from Chicken Soup for the Soul….it was written by a woman called Jean Allen…and I hope it inspires us all to try harder with love.
She writes....
My grandparents were married for more than 50 years. For all those years they played an amazing game….the goal was to write the word “shmily” in a surprise place for the other to find.
They took turns leaving “shmily” around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more.
They dragged “shmily” with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows… overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food colouring. “Shmily” was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave shmily on the very last sheet.
There was no end to the places “shmily” would pop up. Little notes with “shmily” scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. “Shmily” was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents’ house as the furniture.
Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other’s sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome an old man he had grown to be.
But it couldn’t last forever….cancer came and after 50 years together, Grandma was gone.
“Shmily.” It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother’s funeral bouquet. And as the crowd thinned at the graveside, my grandfather stood silently and shook with grief.
I will never forget that moment. I knew although I couldn’t begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its beauty.
S-h-m-i-l-y: See How Much I Love You.
Thank you, Grandma and Grandpa, for letting me see.
4 Comments:
Dear Caroline
Love your site & radio show. I live at Scarborough and pretend I live on the Sunshine Coast. Listen to you most days. Glad to see a photo of you, we went to the Mexican wave last year hoping to see you but we were up at Alex end where Mark was(not such a bad thing he is rather cute)Its great to put a face to the voice.
Hi Caroline,
I enjoyed today's posting.. it bought a tear to the eye. I always enjoy hearing your daily musings. I reckon if you always speak honestly and from the heart, people will always listen. You do that very well.
Love Julie
Dear Caroline,
I loved your posting today... it brought a tear to my eye. I always enjoy hearing your daily musings. I have always believed that if you say it honestly and from the heart, people will always listen. You do that very, very well.
Good luck with your website.
Julie
Hi Caroline,
I drive to Brissy daily to attend Uni. I love your column, but I inevitably end up in tears - especially with this one about SHMILY.
I love the way, you touch our hearts, and give us food for thought. If only we made more time in the day to give attention to the things that really matter.
Keep up the great work,
Post a Comment
<< Home