Words + Images

… a young girl — let’s call her Amy — who recently got into a fight with a group of young girls who were her friends.  A physical fight with nails scratching and hair pulling.  Only they know the reasons why friendship became aggression.  A day or so later perhaps indeed the world righted itself and they all became friends again.  That’s what the leader of the group of girls said as she tried to enter Amy’s home.  But Amy’s grandmother sat on the stoop and would not let them pass.

She said, “I do not know why you did what you did to my grandchild.  I do not care what you say now, that you want to play and not fight.  You shall not enter this house without removing me first.”

The girls looked at her, how frail she was. A good wind would blow her over.

The grandmother returned the look and shook her head. “I love my grandchild, do you hear?  I love that child and,” she added without hesitation,  “I love you too.”

The girls, all of them, walked away without further word.

“A couple of them did look back at me,” my aunt told me this weekend.  “I was a little worried they might try to jump me,” she added with a chuckle.  “But they didn’t.”

I told my aunt that I think she may have planted some good seeds in the  hearts and minds of those girls, seeds she could water by simply inviting them to dinner.

“Just imagine that!” I exclaimed.  “Those girls and your granddaughter around your kitchen table next Sunday.”

She just laughed.

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