Gregoria the Grateful

“No, I refuse. I simply refuse.” Gregoria said as she paced her bedroom. “I have absolutely no desire to write down what it is I am grateful for. How on earth am I supposed to know how to do that?”

“Sweetheart, please. Come sit down.” Gregoria’s mother patted the soft quilt she had stitched together for her the previous Christmas. Mother hoped that patting the quilt might give Gregoria some clue as to where to start to be grateful. When Gregoria had opened the present, she had squealed and squirmed, wrapping the quilt around her and running around the house screaming, “I’m Quilt Girl! I’m Quilt Girl!”

Mother had no idea what Gregoria meant by that, but she knew her daughter had an insatiable penchant for make-believe. Even if she didn’t fully understand it now, she knew she would someday.

Gregoria hadn’t budged.

“Gregoria, sweetie, please. Come sit next to me.”

Gregoria huffed, puffing her perfectly horizontal bangs up from her forehead. They fell back down to her face as she crossed the room with her arms likewise. She plopped down next to her mother on the quilt, stroking the blanket with her left hand while her right was still twisted across her middle. It was a habit of hers whenever she was nervous. Mother glanced down to notice but made no mention of it as she rearranged the wispy strands of Gregoria’s chestnut hair across her forehead.

“There. That’s better.”

Gregoria didn’t move nor did she respond.

Mother began rubbing her back in slow, gentle circles. “Sweetheart, is there something on your mind?”

Another vertical puff of air. Mother thought to say something, but she stopped herself.

“Yes, Mother, there is.”

“Would you like to tell me about it?” Mother asked very carefully.

Suddenly, a groan erupted from Gregoria. “But I already have!”

Gregoria fell back onto her bed with her arms down by her sides. Her small fingers simultaneously traced the stitching of her favorite quilt.

Mother arranged herself properly before lying down next to Gregoria. Turning her head innocently to the right, Mother said, “Have you? Oh sweetheart, would you mind telling me again? To make sure I have all the details.”

Gregoria huffed. “Yes, very well, fine,” she said, turning onto her left side to face her mother.

“At school yesterday, Mrs. Thomas gave us an assignment.”

Mother replied encouragingly. “Go on.”

“She gave us an assignment to write something we’re grateful for in a journal every day for the rest of the semester.”

Inside, Mother was saying—Well, that sounds like a lovely idea. I’ve always liked Mrs. Thomas.

Outside, Mother simply said, “And how did that make you feel?”

“Terrible! Awful! It was a terrible, awful day!” Gregoria yelped as she jumped up perpendicular on the bed. Mother was still lying down on her back. Together, their bodies made the shape of a T. Gregoria could feel the shape and yelled, “Yes, exactly! T for Terrible!”

Mother reached up for Gregoria’s hand. “Sweetheart, come back down here with me. I need a bit of a rest.”

Gregoria complied. She always did. How could she not when her mother was the sweetest, most beautiful mother on the whole planet. She lay back down next to her mother.

“Alright. That’s better. Isn’t it?”

Gregoria nodded.

“Now, tell me why it was such a terrible, awful day.”

Gregoria took a deep breath in, but this time, she only lightly blew out an exhale onto her bangs.

Mother could sense Gregoria was calming down.

“Well, I love Mrs. Thomas. You know that. She’s been my pen pal this schoolyear.”

Mother nodded.

“She’s really the greatest, but this assignment…it just doesn’t make any sense!”

“Why not, sweetheart?”

“Oh Mother, can’t you see? It doesn’t make any sense because how am I supposed to even know what that is?”

“What what is, dear?”

“What grateful is.” Gregoria whispered her reply to her mother with a special emphasis on grateful.

Mother responded with a whisper in kind. “Do you understand what grateful means, sweetheart?”

Still whispering, but almost as a scream Gregoria replied, “Of course I do! Any baby knows that.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, dear. Perhaps if the baby was a genius of some sort—”

“Oh, Mother! Stop being silly! Of course! Even babies know what grateful means!”

“Oh? Please dear, tell me more. I didn’t realize. You know I love learning new things.”

Gregoria snuggled into her mother’s body until their noses were nearly touching. She dropped her whisper-scream back down to an actual whisper. “Grateful means...”

The truth is, Gregoria didn’t know what grateful meant. As soon as the last bell rang the day before at school, Gregoria sprinted to the library to check The Dictionary. With only seven minutes to spare before her bus left, Gregoria knew she had to be quick. Luckily, she was a speed reader. In fact, Gregoria was only four years old, but she had entered kindergarten a year early and was already reading at a first-grade level.

Gregoria furiously flipped through the pages of The Dictionary until she got to the G’s. Carefully dividing the G section into smaller and smaller parts—a trick her granddad had taught her on the phone book—Gregoria quickly landed on the right page. Running her finger down the lefthand column just like Granddad had taught her, Gregoria’s finger suddenly got caught on the edge of the paper.

Confused, she started the whole process again. She counted the letter tabs on the right edge of the dictionary one by one until she found G. Then, she sliced the section into smaller and smaller pieces until she knew she had the dictionary open flat to the right page. Finally, she took her pointer finger and slowly ran it down the left side of the page, but again, it was caught on the fine edge of the paper. This time, she managed to give herself a small paper cut. She couldn’t see the blood, but she could taste it as she put her finger in her mouth.

“Rats.” Gregoria said to herself. “I don’t understand. It should be here.”

Carefully feeling around the ragged edges of the bottom left corner of The Dictionary page, Gregoria suddenly realized that where the word grateful was meant to be, it no longer was.

“Why would someone steal the word grateful?” Gregoria puzzled. She was highly protective of words, and she could not imagine someone destroying something as precious as The Dictionary.

“Animals,” she said under her breath. Tuning back in to the ticking of her watch, she realized that it had been five minutes and forty-nine seconds since the last bell had rung. Placing The Dictionary back on the shelf, she slung her bookbag across her body and strode out of the library. She would have run—indeed, she really needed to—but she didn’t want to seem suspicious. She hadn’t been the one to tear the word grateful out of The Dictionary, but she didn’t want Ms. Frumm the librarian to suspect that she had.

After skipping onto the school bus, Gregoria continued to puzzle the whole way home. That night, under the covers, she cracked open Mother’s copy of The Dictionary. Repeating the same procedure she had performed earlier at school, Gregoria nearly cried out in the dark when she felt the same ripped edge on the bottom left corner of the page of GR-.

“How can this be?” She whisper-screamed to herself under the covers. “I simply don’t understand!”

Gregoria recalled these events as she stalled for time. How could she answer Mother’s question when she had no idea what grateful meant? She hadn’t been able to look it up in The Dictionary, so how was she to know? She let her thoughts tumble and swirl for a moment. Gregoria knew Mother wouldn’t press or interrupt. She was incredibly patient—just another reason why she was the best mother in the world.

After several minutes of silence, Mother finally spoke up. “Can I tell you something I’m grateful for?”

Gregoria nodded, full of relief.

Mother wrapped her arms around Gregoria. “I am grateful for you, my sweetheart.”

“Me? But why?”

Mother laughed softly. “Well, because you are so precious to me.”

Gregoria at least knew what precious meant. She had learned it reading one of her geology books. She was an avid collector of rocks and gemstones.

“But why does me being precious to you make you grateful for me?”

“Well, think about your precious gemstones.”

Gregoria closed her eyes to visualize her favorite one of all—Fool’s Gold. “Ok. I’m visualizing.”

“Good.” Mother replied, rubbing small circles again on Gregoria’s back. “Keep your focus on your Fool’s Good and think about how it makes you feel. When you open the special box you keep it in, when you pick it up and feel its sparkly edges—how do you feel?”

“Happy, excited, grateful—Hey! Wait a minute, how did I know to say grateful? I don’t even know the definition.”

“Oh sweetheart, I think you do.”

Gregoria wrinkled her nose in her signature way when she didn’t understand something. Mother continued rubbing her back.

“No, I don’t! I tried to look it up in two different Dictionaries and in both the definition was ripped out!”

“Oh?”

There was a short pause as Mother started to spell a word out on Gregoria’s back—a trick that always calmed her down. Gregoria could feel the gentle pull and tug of her mother’s glossy fingernail against the thick flannel of her nightgown. She knew what she was spelling.

“Mother, I know how to spell grateful.”

“I know you do sweetheart, and you also know how to define it.”

“No, I don’t! Aren’t you listening? I couldn’t look it up in The Dictionary because it wasn’t there.”

“But dear, when you were just talking about your Fool’s Gold, you used the word grateful to describe how it makes you feel.”

Gregoria stammered. “Yes, but but—it’s because you tricked me!”

“Oh sweetheart! You know I would never do that. You are my most precious gemstone.” Mother squeezed Gregoria into a hug. Gregoria willingly acquiesced.

Back down to a whisper, Mother said into Gregoria’s ear, “Sweetheart, what is it that’s troubling you?”

“I’m sad, Mother. Someone ripped the word grateful out of The Dictionary. How could they do that?”

“My sweet girl. I think it’s time I told you a story about your Granddad.”

“Why? What does Granddad have to do with this?”

“It’ll be easier for me if I can tell you the story. Are you up for it?”

Gregoria nodded.

“A long time ago, Granddad was in a war.”

Gregoria was shocked. Granddad was the sweetest man she knew. She couldn’t imagine him killing anyone, and as far as she knew, that’s what people did in wars. “He was in a war?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Please tell me he didn’t kill anyone.”

“Oh no, dear. Quite the opposite. He was a doctor. He helped saved people’s lives.”

Gregoria let out a deep exhale. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“Yes, he was a bit of a hero, in fact.”

“Where was the war?”

“It was a long way away, over five oceans, or just one, depending on which way you go.”

Gregoria traced letters on her mother’s arm to think. “So, it was in Asia?”

“Yes, dear! Exactly.”

“Was this the Vietnam War or the Korean War?”

“The Korean War.”

“Oh, that was a bad one.”

“Yes, dear. All wars are.”

“Wait a minute…” Gregoria’s early memories started flooding back to her. Vague shapes and muffled sounds flashing across a screen as she sat upright in Granddad’s lap, her body relaxed against his broad chest. “When I was a baby, Granddad would sit with me and watch tv. I remember hearing helicopter blades and a lot of funny names like ‘Radar’ and ‘Klinger.’ There was one name that was repeated a lot…oh, what was it?”

Gregoria tapped her chin.

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s the name of a bird.”

“Hawkeye!”

“Yes, dear. That show is called M*A*S*H*. It stands for—”

“Mobile Army Surgical Hospital! I know. I remember Granddad spelling it out for me.”

“Did you enjoy watching that show with him?”

“I did. I loved it!”

“Would you say you are grateful for it?”

“I suppose so, but Mother, I still don’t understand what grateful means.”

“Well, why don’t I finish telling you the story about Granddad then?”

Gregoria snuggled in close again to her mother.

“Yes, please. I love talking about him.”

“Me too, sweetheart. Now, where was I? Ah yes, Granddad was a doctor in the Korean War.”

“Just like Hawkeye?”

“Just like Hawkeye.”

“So, he didn’t kill anyone?”

“No, dear. He didn’t. As a doctor, his mission was to save as many people as possible, no matter who they were.”

“Granddad really was the best, wasn’t he, Mother?”

“Yes, dear. He really was.”

“Well, go on. Keep telling me about him. What does he have to do with the word grateful in The Dictionary?”

“Well dear, the thing is, even though Granddad didn’t kill anyone during the war, that didn’t mean he didn’t see people die.”

Gregoria gasped, and her eyes began to well with tears.

“Shh, sweetheart it’s alright. It happens, you know. There were times, unfortunately, when Granddad was trying to save someone’s life, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t do it.”

“But why? I don’t understand. Was he not a very good doctor?”

Mother laughed softly. “No, dear. In fact, he was one of the very best, but sometimes, no matter how good the doctor is, he just can’t save his patient.”

A swollen tear slid out from under Gregoria’s long eyelashes.

Mother rubbed her back gently. “Shh. It’s alright dear. I’m here.”

Gregoria snuggled in even closer.

“Ok, please continue, Mother. I’m alright.”

“Are you sure, dear?”

Gregoria nodded.

“Alright, well, Granddad was an excellent doctor, and he saved many people’s lives. As I said, though, he unfortunately also lost some lives that he was trying to save. That weighed heavily on his heart, and for a time, it made life difficult for him—especially after he came back home.

Eventually, though, something lightened his heart, and that something was me. The day my mother realized she was pregnant was the day Granddad said he came back to life. He felt so grateful that they were bringing new life into the world.”

Gregoria nodded. No tears this time. She knew the story she was about to hear was sad, but she had never known Grandmother, and so she didn’t feel sad.

Mother hadn’t really known Grandmother either, but it still made her sad. She wiped a tear out from under her long lashes and continued.

“Unfortunately, the day I came into the world was also the day my mother left it. A coup de grâce. Granddad told me that was why he named me Grace. He said, ‘Today, I have a daughter, a precious gem to give to this world. I have lost my Gretel, but gratefully she left me with Grace.’

Gregoria sniffed. She may have never known Grandmother, but she still missed Granddad terribly.

“Wait, you said gratefully. Is that the same as grateful?”

“Yes, dear. Essentially, it is.”

“What does that mean, essentially?”

“Hmm. Essentially means that they are nearly the same thing.”

“Ok, so in this case, what does it mean? Does it mean that Granddad was grateful for you?”

“Yes, dear, exactly.”

“Ok, I think I’m beginning to understand what grateful means.”

“Yes, I think so too.”

“But, wait, what does that have to do with the missing entries in The Dictionary?”

“Ah yes. Shall I finish my story?”

“Yes, please.”

“Alright, well, after I was born, Granddad couldn’t go to the hospital anymore to work because he had to stay home and take care of me. He had a few patients from before he went to Korea that were loyal to him and came to him for house calls, but unfortunately, that didn’t give him enough income to take care of us both. So, Granddad got creative. He picked up some work editing dictionaries before they went to print. It was work he could do from home and work that he enjoyed. He had always been an avid reader, as you know.”

“Yes, his favorite book was The Dictionary—Wait a minute!”

“Yes, dear?”

“He used to read me The Dictionary when I was a baby!”

“Yes, dear, he did.”

“But I never remember him reading the definition for grateful.”

“Well, sweetheart, that’s because he didn’t.”

“But why, it seems he had a lot to be grateful for.”

Mother smiled.

“And why is that dear?”

“Well, because he never killed anyone, because he made it home alive from a terrible war, and because he had you and me.”

“Those are all very good reasons to be grateful, I suppose.”

“So why didn’t he ever read the definition then? Was he the one who ripped it out of The Dictionary?”

“Yes, dear. He was.”

Gregoria jumped up. “But why! That makes no sense! Why wouldn’t he want to remind himself of the definition?”

“Well dear, why do you think?”

Gregoria continued jumping as she pondered. Her jumps slowed to small hops and eventually to nearly undetectable bounces on the balls of her feet. She sat back down on her quilt.

“Because he already knew what it felt like to be grateful.”

Mother sat up and pressed her forehead gently into Gregoria’s so their noses touched. She whispered.

“Exactly, sweetheart. That’s exactly right. Do you think you understand know the definition of grateful now?”

“Yes, Mother,” Gregoria whispered back. “And I know how to complete Mrs. Thomas’ assignment.”

“Good girl. My sweet, precious gemstone, Gregoria. I am so grateful for you.”

Gregoria smiled.

“Me too, Mother. Indeed, I have much to be grateful for.”