Image by Alexandr Ivanov from Pixabay
“Oh yeah, we know Ms. Maisie – she's a cousin and really nice like Mom and Dad!”
“See, I knew there was a reason we liked all Trents!”
That was eight-year-old Gracie Trent talking with six-year-old Grayson Ludlow about the foster mom who had loved him.
“See, how it is is, we all have four grandparents, but eight great-grandparents, and so Ms. Maisie and my dad share a grandparent who is a Jubilee-of-the-mountains,” Gracie said. “That means I have that Jubilee-of-the-mountains that is Ms. Maisie and my dad's grandparent as a great-grandparent, and that's how I'm related to Ms. Maisie.”
Grayson grinned.
“We're practically related,” he said. “My great-grandmother is a Lee-of-the-mountains, and although the story goes that once upon a time Robert E. Lee and Hubert Jubilee fought against each other in the Civil War, they forgave each other later.”
Capt. R.E. Ludlow, having been raised to respect the Confederate side of that struggle by his Ludlow relatives, but pulled away from that by his Lee-of-the-mountain relatives, jumped upon eavesdropping this – how had Grayson heard that?
“I know!” Gracie said. “That allowed their mountain relatives to become friends, too!”
Grayson put out his little hand and Gracie took it.
“Pink people and brown people have been friends since forever,” he said, “once they remembered how to do that.”
“Well,” Gracie said, “I think people forget sometimes that God looks at us the same.”
“It's so easy sometimes,” Grayson said. “I mean, even over here with us pastel-colored Ludlows with some brunettes, too, if George pulls Edwina's hair, just watch. They're going to start fighting and forget.”
“Milton does that to me sometimes, or at least he did,” Gracie said. “I had to help him remember not to forget not to do that, and Dad was a lot of help. But see, that's what grown people just need to do – let God the Father – I mean, not even a Dad, but on that full Father level -- handle people. But sometimes I just think people forget.”
Grayson thought about that.
“I think sometimes maybe it's not that people don't remember, but that people sometimes just want what they want,” the little boy said. “I mean, my grandfather is the walking, talking voice of NO when not saying YES or anything else, and we all know the rules, but, uh … .”
“Yeah, that happens over here too sometimes,” Gracie said. “It's kind of hard being human, and having a perfect God that says we have to obey all these adults. But I haven't heard anything yet that would make it hard for us to live in love with everyone here.”
“I haven't either,” Grayson said, “although I used to live in a place like that after they took me from Ms. Maisie. I'm so glad to be here. There are a lot of rules. Your dad is a drill sergeant and my Papa is a captain. Kinda hard sometimes, but trust me, Gracie, it's so much better than not having people that care.”
“I believe you,” Gracie said. “I've never been through it, but I can tell from the stories that Amanda tells sometimes that it is so much better here than where we could be.”
“It is,” Grayson said, and then their attention was riveted – as was Capt. Ludlow's – by a familiar pickup truck pulling up at the edge of the cul-de-sac. Out of that truck came Grayson's cousins Col. Harry and Mrs. Maggie Lee. They pulled six folding chairs out of the back of the truck and put them in place before helping their grandparents Horace and Linda Lee, great-grand-uncle and great-grand-aunt to Grayson, and Ebon and Mabel Jubilee, great-grand-uncle and great-grand-aunt to Gracie, out of the truck.
“I told you we're practically related!” Grayson said and fell down laughing, just that tickled.
“I see that!” Gracie said.
“We came to watch our great-nephews,” the Lee and Jubilee patriarchs announced, for that day Capt. Ludlow would sing for the screen, and Sgt. Trent's hand would be the hand of Don Giovanni because the two men lived in the same Covid bubble.
Grayson looked at Mabel Jubilee's towering silver-white natural, and then looked at Gracie's hair that was out for the summer.
“Going for your great-grand-auntie's crown look?” he said.
“Yep,” Gracie said. “The thing is, I'm eight and she's like 88, but when Christmas comes I think I will just get some chalk and some silver glitter and kinda speed up the process.”
Capt. Ludlow did what Grayson had done, once he had gotten into his bedroom and could fall on his bed to laugh until he cried, while Gracie's big sister Vanna overheard that and also went to do the same thing.