Wisdom

Not so long ago, my Granddaughter had a great affinity for Band-Aids. Immediately after a greeting hug and kiss, she would ask in her tiny girl voice, “See my Band-Aids?” and pull up the legs of her pants to reveal four or five cartoon-character-ed adhesive strips across each leg.


Of course this Grandma would seriously ask about the circumstances of each. She would shrug her little shoulders at every inquiry, but continue to point down the line until all received the proper sympathetic consideration.


If I was fortunate enough to be there at bedtime, I would hold her sweet weight in my lap while she listened to the story she had chosen. Reluctant to give in to sleep, she lasted until the book was finished. Then she would point to a spot on her arm or leg, say “boo boo” in her sleepy voice, and offer it up for attention. Again and again, her fingertip resting on unblemished skin, we’d repeat the ritual. After each healing kiss, she would sigh and burrow in closer until her eyes closed and the deep breathing of her innocent sleep began.


I often think about her wisdom. How simple to ask for what is needed with no further thought for justification in the request.


How wonderful it would be to offer up that place that needs comfort, attention, reassurance. Perhaps one of the rough spots we face every day. Or maybe one of the ones that never go away.


The child in me envies the ability of the very young to understand what we often forget. How simple it is to offer your heart to be kissed and made better.