In the USA we celebrate two rather peculiar Holidays.
The first of these is called Halloween. The principle attraction of this holiday, at least for young children, is something called “Trick or Treat” – a fun time for both parents and children. Parents dress up their young children, then parade them around the neighborhood, proudly displaying their progeny for all to see. As for the kids, they get to be praised by all for simply being kids, but most importantly, they also get showered with free candy.
The second strange holiday is called Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday that no one has yet managed to ruin through commercialization. Essentially, it is a pretty traditional family feast. In our household my wife has become such a masterful chef that everyone loves Thanksgiving. I don’t think I exaggerate in saying our family looks forward to Thanksgiving more than any other holiday. Indeed, I think even my wife enjoys working like a slave for the days leading up to the actual feast. She heaps our plates with fantastic foods, and we heap her with praise. A classic win-win situation :).
So, precisely what does any of this have to do with measuring love with a Tootsie roll? I’m getting there, impatient one.
Our oldest daughter lives in Athens, Ohio. This year Athens celebrated Halloween on the evening of October 27th. Eden, our almost five-year-old Granddaughter, scored in the candy sweepstakes. Later, while counting her stash of well-gotten gains, Eden found a Tootsie roll. Eden knows I love Tootsie rolls, so she turned to her mom and said, “I’ll save this for Granddad.” She then put it aside.
A month flies by.
This year Thanksgiving fell on the 24th November. Along with her mother, father, and baby sister, Eden arrived. After greeting each person individually, she arrived at me, kindly granted me a hug, {which she has been known to withhold,} then held out a tight clenched fist and said, “I brought something special for you, Granddad.”
I reached out my open hand, into which Eden dropped a warm and soft little Tootsie roll. I unwrapped it and ate it immediately. As I did she said, “I know you like them.”
I managed to assure her that I did before I had to turn away. Some troublesome gnats must have flown into my eyes.
How do you measure the length of love?
Usually, I don’t measure love at all, for Love truly is incomparable. However, a few days ago I found Love’s perfect measure, at least for that moment. A single, hand-melted Tootsie roll. Should you ever be so lucky.
Avidly look for love and you’ll find it, and often in the most surprising of places.
