Boyish, twinkling lights

It was the celebration of my maternal grandad's birthday yesterday.

People got together,
The mood was merry, the tv as always was on without anyone really watching it,
And granny was debating with my aunt's entire family over whether a car should cut into someone's lane from the left, or the right- because she'd been overtaken by a taxi while riding a bicycle, and that'd pissed her off.
(I should probably mention that the law is disregarded in such debates because whatever they think is right, is right to them.)

It was amusing, to say the least.
And I know it sounds like all these people are on terrible terms with one another
But really it's just a very everyday scene that repeats itself over and over again, over the course of the many dinners that we have together, and it happens as often as that because that's the way they are; that's how close they are, and that's how talkative and excited they get over pretty much any topic on the news, and raising voices to make a point is the norm.
They love to debate, and most of the time it's just banter and an aunt and a granny that hates to lose arguments.

And, well,
That's what I enjoy so much.

It's all so very intimate and funny, don't you think?
Although, me as I am,
I constantly play the observer role that isn't necessarily passive,

Just,
Quiet.

There was this once I'd gone out with my aunt's family,
And... Whoa.
I felt my lifespan shorten as I gasped for air in between lines of a conversation that never did end.
And then I felt my socialising-people-meter go through the roof,
And an internal explosion happened that cooked all my hair and brains.

Well,
You get the idea.



Then it was time for the infamous picture taking before the cake ceremony,
And that's pretty much more important than the cake itself.

The tv had on one of those programmes that explored nostalgia and the loneliness that comes with it, and one of those piano pieces was being played.

If anything, it felt like I was watching a film,
And I was there without being an outsider
But without really being on the inside either.

Grandma took the effort to shower, and grandad changed into an outfit that wasn't flattering but obviously made him feel great,
And he put his arm around granny.
Dentures and all,
He grinned,

And I thought I saw a flash of his younger days.

Then everyone was bursting with happiness and smiling with such gusto,
And they encouraged granny to grin, too, because that'd make her beautiful.

It was all so very nice
Because my granny doesn't smile much as a default facial expression that indicates nothing of her mood,
And when the two of them leaned against each other, clearly at ease and feeling blessed,


I thought to myself that I wanted a love story just like that,

That I wanted to be old with an old man who'd put his feeble arm around me when we took photos,
And that he'd place all his strength into smiling for it even though it leaves him feeling drained right after,
And we'd have so, so many mundane debates with relatives over triviality,
Have a tv on that no one really watches,

And just have a warmly lit birthday celebration every year.

I know you've heard this one before, but I just love it so much.