Sacredness of the Ordinary

            Black and white plaid, tied around my waist. Made up of small threads and cloth, something so soft, but means a lot. A flannel, it doesn't seem like much, but whenever I see or wear one I feel a small tug at my heart. Wearing a flannel or tying one around your waist in this society makes you seen automatically as a punk or a hipster. But those aren't my reasons for wearing one. Not because they're comfy and soft, or represent my favorite season (autumn) or label you as something, it's because he wore one. More specifically, he was my grandfather, I like to say that he still is and always will be. 

                           
    My grandfather meant a lot to me, and still means everything to me. He was always around when I was growing up, and I mean always. He was usually the one babysitting my sister and I when we were not of age yet to watch ourselves. My parents were going through a divorce when I was around the age of two, so I saw my grandfather even more. I still remember when I was seven years old; me in my princess themed pajamas, him in in track pants and black and white flannel. He was chasing me around the house trying to get me to do my homework by threatening to spray me with shaving cream. By the time I reached age five, I started kindergarten like most children in the country. My grandfather missed the time he got to spend with me when I was at school, so he decided to be a school lunch monitor, that way he could see and watch over me.

 When he started his side job as a monitor, he befriended many of the staff members at my elementary school. He was always a person who was happy, it was contagious, I'm sure that's why he had so many friends. My papa never judged anyone, it was always something that I idolized, I'm sure not many judged him either (even though he wore the same black and white flannel everyday.) As I went through kindergarten and first grade and second, all up until fifth grade, he saw me grow up. He got to see how I made friends, some that I'm still even best friends with to this day. I used to always get embarrassed when he came up to talk to me during school, I didn't like all the kid's eyes staring at me, attention was something I refused to receive. But now, I'd give the world to be back in that position. 

       When my sister and I had finally both finished elementary school. I was in seventh grade while she was in sixth. Seventh grade was definitely not a year that I favored. In 2013, my grandfather was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. When my family found out, it was like our whole world collapsed. This man, my grandfather could make someone smile within seconds. He could get you laughing so hard that you'd run out of breathe. And this man, any day, could be taking his last breathe. My grandfather ended up passing away a few months before I finished seventh grade; most of that year is a blur to me. 

        After my grandfather passed, my grandmother started wearing his black and white flannel. It was nice, it reminded me of him; the days we laughed and the days we cried. So, I finally decided to buy one for myself. When I wear mine though, I'm not striving to look punk rock or cool like a hipster, I wear it because it's like a small part of him is with me. A flannel, made up of small threads and cloth, something so soft that means a lot. Black and white plaid, tied around my waist.