Chicken Noodle Soup

As I sit here eating my chicken noodle soup, grilled cheese sandwich and listening to the end of Caillou (my daughter is watching it while eating her own lunch), I revel in the temporary calm of this meal. We're all sick with a cold this week, including my 2 1/2 month old, so it's been a trying time. As all grilled cheese sandwiches go, the outside crust is yummy and buttery, so I reach for a fancy Poinsetta-printed napkin from the nickel-plated napkin holder that my husband probably thinks is more for decoration than practical purposes and a smile creeps into the corner of my mouth as I think of my grandpa. I suddenly want to eat this meal in the most civilized manner, with a napkin on my lap and leisurely enjoying each bite. As opposed to my garbage disposal impression, which consists of cramming my sandwich and slurping my soup before an offspring needs something from me. When I reached for that napkin, I imagined what my grandpa would have said or reacted to if he'd seen that soup running down my chin while simultaneously preparing another bite to enter my mouth.
He'd have been shocked, he would have made some cutting, intelligent comment that would have made everyone else laugh and left me horrified at my barbarianism. His conclusion of my uncivilized behavior would have branded a Scarlet letter on my forehead in his mind and during each subsequent meal, he'd have watched me out of the corner of his eye to catch me in such low behavior again.
The thing that was so delightful about my grandpa was that he was a very quiet, kind person that had the presence of a giant. It wasn't that you needed his approval, but you definitely didn't want him to notice you doing something he disapproved. I don't know if he meant to, but his reactions to most things during my lifetime with him were the most entertaining past times for my extended family. It was always interesting to find out what Grandpa's reaction was to a behavior more than what behavior had been committed. I doubt he now approves of my dipping my sandwich in my soup either, but I'm not giving that one up when eating at home.
So when I reached for that napkin, I knew that I was really reaching for a memory to come to life before me and to be sitting with my grandpa again. It reminded me that the laziness and lack of civility towards myself was not being true to his influence on my upbringing. And maybe that was his way of letting me know he was looking down from heaven, still watching out of the corner of his eye.