Po and Big are my grandparents (long story on the names, but suffice to say, leaving grandparents' names up to the grandchildren is the way to go). I've been wanting to write about them on here for a long time, but have hesitated. I've hesitated for a couple of reasons. I've hesitated because they've come across some tough times of late and I don't want to only give you that small of view of them. Mostly, I've hesitated though, because I don't think I can do them justice.
Po is a southern grandmother in the best sense of the word. She is southern, sassy and not-at-all grandmother like except in her love for her grandchildren. Growing up I remember a diamond iguana pin that Po would wear on her clothes. She's still one of the most fashionable people I know and goes to the "beauty shop" once a week. She would always cook me bacon and eggs and sing and dance with me.
Big is a tougher shell to crack, but it's worth it once you get through. A former football player and Army veteran, Big is all testosterone. When I was younger, Big didn't always talk a lot, but he was always given the responsibility of saying the blessing before dinner. He always said the best blessing and thanked God for the opportunity to be together and for "help in our future business endeavors." I always thought that was funny, but that's just the type of guy he is.
Po and Big met in Georgia when they were twelve. They've been inseparable ever since.
Po and Big are fun. They drink. They cuss. They are irreverent. And they are madly in love.
Po and Big are not the old gray-haired grandparents you think of who hold hands (though they do that) and sit quietly. They are not together because they have been together for 50 years. They are together because they are crazy in love. Po and Big are loud. And sassy. And flirt. They look at each other today like they'd do it all again in a second if they could.
Their love isn't the picture perfect love you see in movies. It's crazy and fun and wild and doesn't give a damn. And in my mind, that's perfect.