A Story to Be Told

My grandson, Elia, is someone who spends his day bathing in joy. You can never see him frowning. Were it to happen, it would be a fleeting parenthesis. His secret is not unknown to whoever knows him. His secret is love. My grandson’s relationship with his father is a story to be told. His eyes are on him, wherever he may be. He sees him as the most powerful man in the world. He does not let him pass by without talking to him, bantering him, and planting a kiss on him that falls wherever it falls, on his face, shoulder, or leg... No matter how his father was, whether tired or busy..., he stands in front of him and calls him. It is a call that no kings can imitate. Then he continues his ritual of talking and kissing. My grandson loves his father in his details. He wants to know everything about him. Yesterday, I followed him to his bed before he went to sleep. I found him praying with his older sister. He hosted me for a little while and started asking me his questions. He asked me about my father. He wanted to know something about his father's grandfather! He was silent for a while, then he asked me about something that made me laugh. He asked if, when his father was a child, he used to love potato chips, as he did. My grandson convinces you that love is the wellspring of joy.