It being a Thursday, and not a holiday. Not a before or an after, it may not seem like a big deal. But as I wander through my grandparents’ “deals,” it would be hard to label any of them as big, but certainly they were all grand. 

I’m reminded as I pull out the smallest of brushes, to make the fine details. Each one turning the previous broad strokes into something special. How the slightest move turns the mood of a face — that piercing thought into a heart warming soon to be smile. 

I suppose the grand gesture would have been to take us to DisneyWorld. Valley Fair. But my grandma didn’t take me to those places. I do recall one evening, dusk really. My only meaning of dusk was just as the lonesome set in, and I longed to go home. And my meaning of home was of course, my mother. Such a powerful feeling. Undeniable. My grandma didn’t fight it. Didn’t make me feel ashamed. She led me to the car. Put her giant purse on my lap (our version of seatbelts), and we headed back to town. It was the smallest of moves, this shift from R to D, but I could feel the change in my heart. As the fields rolled by the window, she asked me to look for some candy in her purse. My soon to be smile arrived — she still loved me. And I was saved.

It’s always the little things that make the biggest of deals.