Winter has arrived here in the south. Even the trees know it; they have discarded their leaves in preparation for new ones. I wonder what leaves I need to let go to make room for new growth?
My grandmother’s leaves are the same as always–giving commands that should be requests, eating ding dongs and Rice Krispies treats because she can. I love how she balances her sweets with no sugar hot chocolate. Now, she’s on oxygen all the time. It was good to see her and visit. It was not easy, though. She is an evergreen, I suppose.
So I’m here again. Going to visit my Grandmother soon, and I’m sure it will be illuminating, hilarious and uncomfortable. She’s getting old and I am afraid she will die. I had hoped that my family would be immune to death and sickness. Not so. Turns out that we are not immortal, but love remains no matter what.
If you are reading this, you may wonder why I keep typing Grandmother instead of grandmother. Well, it’s simple–that’s what I call her. She not the sort of woman to be called grandmother so and so. She’s much more direct than that. Really.
Here’s a classic example of how my beloved Grandmother could get ahead of herself:
I guess this letter is expected! I have mixed emotions regarding your offer to teach in Italy [I was just thinking out loud one day. There was no offer.] First & foremost, that is too far from home! I imagine the pay is good. That’s the only good thing about the offer. Next, I don’t want any of those Italians latching on to you. With all your good attributes, you would be a good catch. Go with them, have fun with them, but leave them there…Saturday am, about 4:00, I waked up & thought about you going to Italy. I had trouble going back to sleep. I hope I don’t lose any more sleep about this. I am proud of you and your accomplishments. I’m sure you can find something on this side of the Atlantic.
Even back in her younger years, she was quite opinionated. Have you ever gotten a letter like this from your grandmother?
Ever since I was a little girl, Grandmother would send me notes on how to be the best girl. She sent me letters, newspaper clippings and cards on everything from how to clean a cast iron skillet, who to date (or not), and how to write a thank you card.
She’s 93 now and still sends me things. This blog is in honor of her.