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He laughs again. “Man. Boy. It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s younger than I am now.” Gramps might say this but he’s the most vibrant person I know. Age will never slow him down.
“I love you so much. I’m glad you came,” I tell him again. He beams at me.
“Okay, as much as I love talking about love, what about work, darling? I hate you being in the FBI. It worries me every single day.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You raised me along with my parents to be strong and independent. You can’t create such a stubborn girl and then complain I’m independent and a thrill seeker.”
“Don’t remind me. I wish I would’ve kept you in a nice little box where you only played with soft teddy bears and baby bunnies.”
This makes me laugh hard, something I’ve needed to do for days. “I love you so much, you old man.”
“Age is only a number,” he reminds me.
“Yes, it is and you’ll live forever.” He has to live forever or our entire family will be ripped apart. We could never handle the loss of the head of our family.
“Quit stalling and tell me about work,” he demands.
My mind swirls with conflicting thoughts. I love my job and how fulfilled I am after getting a bad guy, on the other hand it pulls me from those I love far too often. It also doesn’t seem to fulfill my need to bring more to the world. It’s so dang confusing and I don’t know what to do about it.
“I’m honestly not sure what to do, Gramps. Something’s missing in my life, something work-related. I hoped to find some answers by now, and find balance in what I want to do. I need to love my work, but also have a passion for life. I know that you, Dad, Mom, my aunts and uncles, every single person I know seems to love what they do. I can’t honestly say I love my work. I like it, and I enjoy doing it, but I’m not sure that’s enough anymore.”
Gramps nods with understanding as I speak. “Jazzy, you’re strong, brave, and dedicated. You are also one of the rare people who searches within yourself to discover your purpose in life. Don’t ever lose that quality. It’s really simple at the end of the day. If you want to stay with the FBI, that’s what you do no matter how much I might not like it. If you want to try something new, even if that new adventure might give me some heart palpitations, you need to do that as well. At the end of the day, I want you to be happy. The happier you are, the better off you’ll be.”
I contemplate his words, knowing they’re striking a chord within me. It also gives me a renewed sense of purpose. Gramps believes in me just as the rest of my family does. Their belief in me makes me believe in myself. Yes, Hunter says the same things to me, but sometimes a person has to repeatedly hear something before it sinks in. I’m one of those people who needs to hear things over and over again.
“You’re so right, Gramps. Maybe I should talk to Hunter about all of this since it affects him as much as it does me. We’re a team in the FBI. We’ve talked about doing something else, but I don’t know if he realizes how serious I am about it. I’m not even sure how serious I am. I’ll find out soon enough though.”
Gramps beams at me, his eyes brimming with pride. “I have no doubt you’ll figure this out, Jazzy. Whatever’s meant to be is already written in the stars. You just have to find the right path to take, and the Tree of Life will be right before you.”
I laugh. “Gramps, you’re sounding a little cheesy.”
“At my age, I get to be as cheesy as I want to be,” he says, not at all offended.
We resume our walk and the sun begins its descent, painting the sky with colors I love so much; that’s why evening is my favorite time in Miami. The weight of my uncertainty still weighs on me, but I’ll figure it out. There’s no way I won’t, having Gramps and Hunter and so many others walking this journey with me.
“Do you think a person will ever get so far off course they can’t find their way back home?” I ask. “Life’s all about making choices, and many try to follow their passions only to lose everything. I want to make sure I’m not foolish.”
I look into his blue eyes so full of wisdom and compassion. “Jasmine, my darling girl, it’s never too late to pursue dreams and rediscover ourselves. I’ve reset my life journey many times over. I’ve had to change course in the middle of something I thought was great in the beginning. It’s never too late to change, and never too late to fix a bad course. The only time something is unfixable is when we give up on ourselves and those we love. If we try to walk through this life alone, we’ll fade from existence. We can always take new directions, but we can’t course-correct if we don’t have a navigator at our side.”
“You always have a way of showing me a bigger picture. I might see it like a ship way out at sea, but you have a way of sailing that ship closer where I can see the details and beauty of it.”
“Good, that’s what grandparents are for, to provide the lighthouse for you to find your way back to land.”
We turn around and make our way back to my place, with me feeling peaceful once more. I don’t know why I always hesitate to ask for help from the ones I love when I’m always better off after they’ve stood by my side. Maybe this is the next thing I need to fix about myself. It’s like a puzzle, and I get one piece in place at a time fitted until the picture is all complete.
ChapterSeventeen
Jasmine
The sun bathes the streets in a warm glow, and I feel it. I absolutely love Miami... but I could do without the summer humidity. I’m sweating as I lead Hunter down an alleyway, past a cozy café and art vendor, to the blessed relief of a hidden restaurant I discovered last year. It’s only known by the locals. I’m sure some tourists stumble upon it every now and then, but it never gets rowdy, and I absolutely love it.
“Wait,” Hunter says as we see a man painting, a lot of his work on display. Hunter moves closer and picks up an image of a solider holding a boy, chaos behind him. He gazes at the image for so long I want to know what he’s thinking about. I wait though, sensing something about this is important to him.
He finally turns my way. “My gramps was in Vietnam and saved a group of children from a raid. Even when he was on his death bed, he told me the story again of a little boy with dark eyes who had nothing but torn up clothes and no shoes with dirt smudged on his cheeks. The little boy handed my grandfather an American nickel, something that meant a lot to the boy, and insisted my grandfather keep it. When the war was over he tried to find that child, wanting to know if he was an orphan or not. He spent years looking, but never found him. That nickel was his most prized possession and now I have it at home. I need this painting,” he softly whispers, and tears fill my eyes.
“Then we’re getting it,” I tell him as I sniffle.
He moves to the man and pays for the painting. The man wraps it for him while Hunter holds my hand, not letting the artwork out of his sight. The man hands it over along with a card with his business information on it. I take the card and slip it in my purse. I’m going to pass it along to Uncle Lucas who’s always looking for unique and talented vendors for our family’s many successful businesses.
