a fiery love

I was in Minnesota for a couple days in December this past year, visiting my grandma for a few days. Alone time with her is one of the most precious gifts. A couple times she apologized for not having a more exciting, thrilling, and adventurous life. To which I would respond that just time with her, no matter the setting, was always adventurous and perfectly thrilling to me.

One morning, while my eyes were still puffy and my feet fluffed in slippers, steaming cup of fresh poured coffee sandwiched between my chilly fingers, she read me this story. It was given to her from a friend who knew how much she loved dogs. The story was about a pitbull who was rescued from a fighters ring, bloodied and scarred, emotionally and physically, this dog was brought home to live with a family. The hesitation was heavy, given this dog’s hell of a past. Turned out, despite her traumatized history, she was a creature with one of the largest hearts. Soon, she was certified as a therapy dog, traveling to hospitals, clinics, and elderly care homes. Her skill was finding the loneliest of humans and placing her head gently in their lap, dark brown eyes gazing into the loss and pain of a creature who had hurt just as she had hurt. And as the family watched this fierce looking dog love the loneliest of those, they came to the realization that the fire of her past was the reason her love was so widespread. It was the kind of love that carried a smell, attaching itself to clothes and socks, blankets and hands, promising to be completely true and completely loyal. A fiery love.

This story makes me think of my grandma and grandpa, people who love unconditionally and irrevocably. While grandma and I sat by the fireplace, drinking endless chamomile tea, crying and laughing about the beauties and the heartaches of life, grandma looks at me and says: “you know, it’s incredibly wonderful to have had a husband that was imperfect. And knowing that we were just two imperfect people that were ready to love one another unconditionally, it is incredibly wonderful that for sixty-one years, I never questioned that I was loved. And neither did your grandpa.” And if that isn’t pure humanity I don’t know what is.