Wising Up

I never liked my father's mother.

She was not a nice woman. There was nothing maternal in her nature and she was as cold as the dead of winter.

I recall one day when I was very young and driving in the car with my mother. We happened to be in my grandmother's neighborhood. My mother insisted we stop to say hello, as it was the proper thing to do.

After opening the door a crack to her daughter-in-law and granddaughter, she informed us she was busy and closed the door in our faces. We both stood on the porch looking at each other in disbelief.

My grandmother did, however, appreciate wildlife. Owls, especially. Her home was full of pictures and figures of owls created from crystal, porcelain and ceramics.

I was never a big fan of owls.

They reminded me too much of a person who disliked me. They represented someone I could care less about.

Several Decembers ago, I sat in my little cubicle at work typing up a press release. Christmas filled my thoughts and I mentally planned what I had to do still for the Holidays.

My phone rang. I answered and heard my mother on the other end of the line.

"Regina died," she told me gently.

I burst into unexpected tears. My reaction shocked me.

I hung up the phone, grabbed my coat and my cigarettes and sat in the little park across the street from my building thinking about my grandmother and the sudden sorrow that swelled in my heart.

I never liked her. She never liked me. So why was I hurting?

I realized, much later, that I hurt because what should have been a loving bond between and grandmother and a granddaughter never was. And all hopes of what could have been died that day too. There was no chance of a relationship now. It ceased in the moment she drew her last breath.

I felt sorrow for what could have been.

Just a few months ago I stopped to admire the works of a local jewelry artisan. Ironically, the one item that caught my eye was a little silver owl charm on a delicate necklace.

I looked and looked for something else in her vast collection to steer my thoughts from this piece of jewelry. Surely I did not like this owl.

But I did. And I purchased the little owl.

And when I wear it and am reminded to never let myself feel sorrow for what could have been again. To never let an "I love you" go unsaid. To take full advantage of every breath that I have been given.

Owls are known for their wisdom. Perhaps I'm getting there too.