548

July 6, 2018

Five hundred forty-eight. That’s how many flyers we folded, taped, and sorted into piles of 50. The “we” is important. Had I had to do it all myself, it would have taken me half the day, but Linda suggested we hire a couple grandkids to help out. Eliza had a friend over for the afternoon, but the lure of ready cash did its job, and pretty soon she, her friend Andrea, and her little sister Gemma were seated at the dining room table with piles of flyers in front of them. 

Linda, Eliza, and Andrea folded while I tore the tape and Gemma applied it to the flyers, all the while singing various songs from Moana, stopping only to switch songs or add commentary to the process. Even on a Sunday when talking is what I do, I don’t think I could come up with half of what gleefully poured out of her mouth for the hour or so while we worked. Assembly line productivity kicked in, and we soon had eleven neat piles of fifty flyers sitting in precise order on the kitchen table. It was worth every penny we paid out. 

Apparently the girls thought so too, for when Linda took them home, instead of going all the way, the two older ones wanted to be dropped off at the Superette to get some french fries with their newly-earned money. 

We are blessed to have the grandkids so nearby. This morning while Linda and I sat on the swing in our front yard eating breakfast, Abi pulled in on her way to work. She talked for about fifteen minutes before raiding the freezer in the garage for Linda’s homemade fruit slush to take with her to the beach. We get to bless them, and they in turn bless us with their personalities, kindness, and joy for living.