When I looked it up this morning, I couldn’t believe the drastic difference between definition one and two.
To take for granted:
- fail to properly appreciate (someone or something), especially as a result
of overfamiliarity. - assume that something is true without questioning it.
I have been lucky enough to live in number two. The only difference, I suppose, is the presence of love.
I never questioned that when my grandfather spoke between pauses of great length, that the words would be true and meaningful. That the hugs received from my grandmother would result in a little flour on my cheek, and possibly some dough on my back. That when I woke from a bad dream, or one simply come true in the afternoon, my mother would be there. I took them for granted in the most beautiful way— not yet knowing there was more than one definition.
Through the years, life has a way of teaching you differently. But sometimes you have to decide to live like no lessons have been learned. I don’t always succeed, but I think there is beauty in the trying.
She came into our house the other day. Just a random Tuesday. In the entry, I asked if she wanted something to drink or eat. Before we reached the kitchen. Before anything could be seen on table or counter. Without proof of availability, she said the most glorious phrase, “I guess I’ll have a cookie.” I couldn’t – can’t – stop smiling. I had given her a bit of my grandparents. My mother. In me, she lived, even for this brief moment, in definition number two. Cookies in hand, we stood in the presence of love.
