“We will save this for posterity.”
The story of Jonah recorded on cassette tape – my three year old voice and yours.
White shoulders powder in the bathroom. I thought it was there just for our small bodies after we’d soaked away the dirt and sweat of a day at grandma and grandpa’s house.
Sitting on the edge of the gazebo, on the deck stairs, on the porch swing, or hiding under the front deck –
mock orange wafting in the cool mountain air
punctuated by the dozens of wind chimes and the call of that pesky blue jay trying relentlessly to steal the dog food.
Visors for gardening, and walking.
Iced tea in the fridge
cottage cheese and peaches for lunch
if the cookies weren’t fresh, they were frozen, which was really just as good.
So much family. So much love in the complexities of all of our lives.
Piano keys and word processors.
We’d all vie for the back bedroom – a true “grandma’s feather bed” – with it’s silky smooth cotton sheets and window to look out on the stars. Queen of Everything and Princess of Quite-a-lot sometimes took the space, and we cousins were destined for the den. Yours was the only house I’ve ever been in with a den.
My 39 pale in comparison to your 99 and I cannot even fathom all you’ve seen – all you’ve hoped for, loved, feared, known. But this is the posterity I think you meant. We save memories because they make up the lives we lead – who we were forming who we will become – and all of the touchpoints of family and story along the way.
We will miss you Grandmama. Rest well.
(and I still love you more)
July 27,1923- October 15, 2022