One day, while watching my 2 year old granddaughter, she jumps up on my lap, grabs my face, peers determinedly into my eyes and says, "Nan. Let's eat food!" I said, "What food?" She smiles, "Peetzee!"

Pizza it is.

While we were awaiting our "peetzee", three construction worker-looking men walked in. Of course, when you're two and too cute, you draw attention.

"You're a cutie aren't you?"

She nodded, "Yep!"

No guile, no false modesty. Just, "Yep!"

Oh that we would all be so simple in our communication with others. How much simpler would life be if we just all spoke clearly, meaningfully and without pretense? If we listened and responded without ego or too-tender feelings. If we could just accept the fact that we can't make everyone happy, not everyone will love you and that's perfectly ok. If we could just say, 'Yep" when we are paid a compliment, or even when we're told, "I don't want you in my life anymore."

The norm is to read things into a conversation, try to persuade or dissuade another, or simply refuse to accept what is said by telling oneself "They didn't mean it." when they really did.

Two year olds don't always make good decisions, but they are great conversationalist. Literal, concise, and the only misunderstandings come from their Dutchy speech and not their desire to manipulate.

So, from now on, I'm taking my cues from her. I will announce what I need, and from whom, I will not take things personally when the problem is not mine to own, I will accept that I'm not loved by all, and that's ok. Because, a toddler calls me Nan; she breaths my name out reverently when I pick her up from daycare. She also sneaks up on me in the kitchen and giggles, "Hey setsy mama!"

And it must be true....because two year olds never lie!

There you are....

The day we laid you to rest I thought I'd never see you again. Well, not until my own day of rest came.

But I was wrong.

I saw you just now; there, in the mirror. I saw you in the features that have become more and more like yours. I saw you in the silver highlights that I usually keep covered, but have now become prominent through my own neglect.

I hear you when I greet my children...those you help me raise and those you never met. "Hi, baby!" I say, and I hear your voice coming through.

I feel you every time I offer a warm and loving hug to someone who just needs to know someone cares.

I hear you in the sternness of my rebuke, in the warmth of my comfort, and in the logic of my counsel.

I feel you when a small child falls asleep on my lap, or comes to me in need of mending.

And when life gets hard and I want to quit, I hear your voice and see that face...yes, THAT face. The one you left me. The one that takes no nonsense. The one that says, "You can't quit now."

Yes, I still see you. In my daughters, in my grandchildren, and in those quiet moments when I look intently at myself.

And I smile....because seeing you there helps me not miss you quite so much.