Dear Gramma Mary,
I will always remember that patch of irises or “root beer flowers” you had in the back corner of the house. Any time I see these beautiful purple blooms I think of you and the many memories we made in that big back yard –
clean linens flapping on the line,
birds chirping near the feeder,
tire swing swaying from the montrous oak,
and the long wait for the charcoal grill to heat and cook our hamburgers.
I remember sitting in your Florida room watching Lawrence Welk as the summer breeze blew through the screened windows.
I remember you tossing us a whiffle ball and the time I hit a “home run” by breaking one of those glass panes. I learned about restitution.
I remember playing “fox and hound” in a foot of freshly fallen snow when I’d spend a snow day at your house.
I remember your clip-on earrings and your red carpet room and your pretty head scarves that you wore when it was windy.
So many things make me think of you – old fashioned pencil sharpeners, Archway windmill cookies, cabbage rolls, jade jewelry, aspen trees, rummy, gumdrops, and anything PBS.
Thanks for having Ash and I over every Friday night to eat McDonald’s and watch Jeopardy and TGIF (ok, that was mostly us, but I can’t forget that ancient 13 inch tv in your bedroom.) Thanks for letting us spend the night and snuggle with you in the double bed and telling us stories before we fell asleep. Thanks for teaching me how to do plastic canvas and letting me pretend to use your acrylic paints like Bob Ross. I’ll forgive you for snoring if you forgive me for getting water all over the place whenever I “helped” wash dishes. I always smile when I think of how you called Kevin your boyfriend and how proud you were when he became a pastor. I think I’ll start signing my name with xoxo just like you always did.
I’ll miss you, Grams, but I certainly won’t forget you. I’m forever grateful that you were willing to hang around for enough years to see your first great grandchild, and I promise I will tell her all about you.