Maturations

We all couldn’t help but laugh about it. My oldest friend had spent the week with her grandfather, Poppy, on his pig farm. Our families gathered at the end of her time there to splash in the creek, explore the woods, and gather around the biggest crackling bon fire my nine years had ever seen.

As our group pressed around my friend and Poppy to ask how their week had been it was plain to see they had enjoyed the ease of one another’s company. Poppy, however, gently chided his granddaughter about putting the toilet paper on the holder the wrong way.

Until then I had never thought about which way the toilet paper went on the holder much less if there was a right or a wrong way (which, according to Poppy, meant the loose end was hanging over the top rather than the bottom), but I secretly loved that in the span of a week this was the largest obstacle they had navigated together.

Now that I am older with a family of my own this memory often floats through my mind. I find myself taking great comfort in things I can count on; the sun waking me up before my alarm in the summer, the mail that always arrives before 3 p.m., and knowing the toilet paper is on the holder the “right” way because I’m always the one who put it there. But maybe also now that I’m older and more settled in my ways I could use some of Poppy’s gentle chiding, too.