A bit late in the day, but here's my contribution to the Five Minute Friday challenge. Take five minutes and join us. You can get details here.
This week's word: small
“Good things come in small packages” my parents used to say. My mother said it with a defiant smile, holding her five foot self erect and proud. My father said it as he looked lovingly at the woman he called his sweetheart even after nearly 60 years of marriage.
I loved that phrase when I was small. As the youngest, I was smaller than everyone. My voice was small. I felt my very presence was small.
But then I got big. I was taller than both of my parents by high school. Once I had kids of my own, I was heavier than both of them, too. Not hard, granted. As my mother aged she improved, got better and better (read, smaller and smaller).
But just the other day I heard my mother’s voice through me tell my youngest about the good things in small packages as she dragged a stool over to reach the bowl on the top kitchen shelf, complaining about her height. And though she is not my sweetheart, I think I must have had that same loving look on my face when I saw my daughter straighten up with a proud sly smile. That smile is no small thing.