thoughts about her

It’s not possible to separate my grandmother from certain things. Just the thought of her produces the comforting aroma of country wood paneling and dove soap. Sometimes, when I wake and I hear a blue Jay calling the image of grandma materializes instantly and I automatically feel hugged. They say you never know what you have until it’s gone but they are wrong about this, especially for me. I always treasured my grandmother…No, you don’t understand, I truly did…I still do. I’ve never had the best self image but knowing she was part of the make up of me helped me to always feel quite good. If you have just One person in your life who is extremely extraordinary and you’re lucky enough to be loved by this person, you’ll be alright. It’s so very difficult to convey the essence of a person in writing but I’ve not the means to explain or express in other ways. Gosh, I can’t believe I’ll never hear her voice again and her reasoning about things would give Socrates something to ponder, I’m sure. Yes, I’m rambling a bit here but stream of consciousness meanderings never hurt me before or that I’m aware of anyway. If you’d ever ask my grandmother why something was the case or why someone did a particular thing she’d simply say, “people are funny” or “something just is that way” and I realize these aren’t rocket science answers but they seemed to work well enough for me. Grandma taught me to be pretty with her sophisticated dainty ways. She’d sit in front of her movie star illuminated vanity carefully applying her makeup and perfumes everyday and I’d pull up a chair close to her and watch her so carefully. She’d tell me the secrets and her special tricks for just the right way for making ordinarily common features pop! She never wore much makeup but she surely rocked and wherever we’d go people never failed to stare but you know what? I don’t think grandma Ever knew but I never failed to notice because I was endlessly in awe of her and the tenderness of her care. I was just a little girl with scraped knees and wind blown hair but I felt immensely beautiful if my grandmother was near. She wouldn’t let me where makeup because I was just a little girl but she’d let me apply clear nail polish and this alone transformed me into quite the “teeny bopper”, in my head that is. Floral dresses and slightly seductive heeled shoes were mostly what she would wear…honestly, I can’t conjure an image of her now looking any other way. Perhaps, if I continue to write about her she’ll never go away. At least this is my hope because life these past weeks without her doesn’t amount to the best of days.