On My Grandfather

When I was first coming into my magic, my parents didn’t do the best job of supporting me. They’ve made mistakes and have both apologized since, but it still makes me sad to think about sometimes. My grandpa was different though. He was kind and accepting from the start. When my parents told him they beat around the bush so much, they were nervous to see how he’d take it; they were afraid of what he would say. He immediately scolded them for treating it like such a taboo. Of course he understood why they were scared to tell other people, but at the same time he knew that the way my parents treated it would affect how I did too. If they acted like it was something to be scared of, to shun, and to be ashamed of, then I would. After that day my grandfather took me out for ice cream and sat me down to talk. He told me how I needed to stay strong and not listen to what others said about me; no matter what they thought of me, I was someone he’d be proud of. I say this now but it came out a lot less coherent at the time. My grandpa was a reserved man, and I can’t say he was the best motivational speaker I’d ever met, but it made me happy to see him try. He died a few years later after the divorce, and with him gone my parents slid back into their previous trappings in regards to how they spoke about my magic. Eventually I forgot his advice as did they and I became ashamed of my powers somewhat. I still am a little today, although I’ve gotten better about it I think. It’s easy to make those pitfalls. I just try to remember that no matter what the world says I’ll have people like my grandfather to support me.