The Story of Value

How was I traumatized in childhood?

My grandparents, together with my parents, used to gather the whole family on weekends: uncles, siblings, neighbors, and friends to spend time together with good music, dancing, food, and various board games. It was a whole joy and happiness, a piece torn from a little corner of heaven. This continued until one weekend when my grandparents went through a period with more difficult events, which had been accumulating for some time, and that weekend they didn't invite anyone.

They no longer had the necessary mood, a very sad scene; being used to being surrounded only by shouts of joy, it felt like something was not normal. However, the rest of the people didn't know about this, being used to spending the weekend together, they came this time without my grandparents inviting them, bringing all the good cheer and joy with them. My grandparents forgot about the troubles and problems that didn't give them peace at that time, and the weekend brightened again, full of harmony and fun.

Since then, my grandparents no longer invited anyone because these weekend parties became a rule, and there was no need to announce anyone. Regardless of the situation or what happened during the week, weekends were never missed. But there was a period of a few weeks that I didn't understand for some time. During that time, everyone came to the party, and a few neighbors were shaved bald, even Spike, the neighbors' dog, was without fur. At that moment, something inside me shifted.

Years passed, and when I grew older, at one of the weekend parties, I asked my grandparents why people came like that during that period? Was it a disease? Suddenly, silence fell, and everyone became attentive; no one had asked until then, and no one knew why. Then, my grandparents started to laugh, to laugh very hard and heartily. The rest of us didn't know why, and my grandfather said: "My dear wife, your grandmother, can explain better why." Grandma replied, "Out of love," and paused.

It wasn't the answer I expected or that clarified anything for me. I don't think anyone was clarified or expected this answer. I asked, "How so?" She replied, "Out of love." I noticed that your grandfather still had some moments of doubt and weakness because his hair was leaving him, and I then said I had to do something about it without your grandfather knowing. And the rest of you suffered a bit, at which my grandparents smiled.

I didn't get to say anything else because a chorus was heard: "A bit? Because of this, you forced us all, and even paid some of us to come like that?" Grandma replied: "Yes, Mike, I know I exaggerated a bit when I even shaved Spike, your dog," and everyone rolled on the floor laughing. It became our favorite story at every weekend party. Months passed; I know that my grandfather is no longer bothered by baldness; now it even suits him.

However, I gave my grandmother my hairbrush "#Boom Scalp" as a gift to ensure that she would never again perform acts of love for my grandfather, at least regarding this aspect. My irony amplified the atmosphere pleasantly and came as a complement to the story, as if something was missing.

Since then, grandma welcomes us on weekends with the brush in hand, assuring us that everything is fine and that we are not in danger.