terrypetersen

What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains. (Tennessee Williams)

Two people smile at one another. One is three years old, the other ninety-two. A little girl and an older woman. The little girl, my granddaughter, blows kisses. The older woman, my mother-in-law, accepts them. A large portion of the day my mother-in-law sleeps, lost in day-long snoozes. I’ve often witnessed these in my father’s nursing home. Except this woman is in a house miles from where my family lives. Some of us have been traveling for hours to get here—through a hundred miles of construction zones, over two states.

Our little one is a good traveler. But she needs to expend pent-up energy now. Her excited voice and antics amuse her great grandmother. Ella is excellent medicine, joy in size three-toddler stretch pants.

But Great-Grandmother has been sick the past few days. What is enough company? What is wearing for both the elder and younger?

“How are you?” we adults ask.

“I’m fine,” Great-grandmother answers. “Tired.”

But then her eyes meet the spirit of three-year-old Ella, and together their hearts run across mountains the rest of us don’t see. We are mired in the duties and responsibilities of living, the middle of the journey with its endless road work and detours. They know the beginning and the end, the segments closest to God.