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Granny
Non-fiction by Anonymous
I have not thought about Granny in years. Time went by and her memory
faded into just a few uncomfortable moments. I remember my Grandmother
as a sharp, complicated woman. She had a penchant for picking open old
wounds without even a touch of her beautiful fingers. A tongue full of
poison; you longed to get injected so you could move on with the
visit. Finally like a crook invited to dinner the words came and stole
something of yours, always with an unwavering smile.
As with other things we try to let go from the past, I put this away
in the box in a room and locked it tight. We usually don't know it is
there until the door is ripped from the hinges. When someone finds the
key it is as if your back is against a cement wall trying to bust
through and claw your way out. You lock it tight while sitting back
stunned at your reaction. If you are lucky you can heal yourself of
some of what is in that box, in that room.
Mothers Day happened early for me that year especially being a 10:00
AM riser. At 5:00 AM I was up like a shot, sitting in bed. I had this
yearning to go downstairs. When I got there I noticed yet another half
completed scrapbook project strewn on the floor. A mountain of
pictures I had poured through time and again. I knew everyone of them
and the plans they held for me and my book.
Sitting down on the cold wood floor I shivered and sighed. All of a
sudden I felt a need to reach in one more time and pull some out. I
grabbed exactly 3 from the middle of the pile and was shocked by what
I saw. The first picture was my Granny sitting next to her Mother. Her
Mama was obviously on her death bed. On the back side was scrawled,
'Mothers Day 1973'. Very rarely have I ever looked in to eyes I can
actually read, but I did that morning. In that picture I did not see a
mean, complicated woman. I saw a daughter. A daughter missing her
mother already. This picture has hope instilled in it. A hope that
maybe, this last Mothers Day picture would carry with it, the strength
that she needed. The love she would be without. The memories that
might fade.
The next picture had writing on the back as well. It read, 'A few
years after Daddy, (my Grandfather) died'. In this picture I did not
see a poison's tongue waiting for the right moment. I saw somebody
else entirely. I saw a woman in work clothes, someone who could be a
co-worker or a friend. A woman who endured many losses and a hard life
of working. A woman like any one of us. Perhaps, a woman like you or I
one day.
The third picture was dated simply 1971. The year of my birth. In this
picture I did not see a crook waiting to steal my self-esteem. I saw a
proud Mother visiting her son. Pushing life to its fullest in the
moments allowed to her.
I felt a tear rolling down my cheek unexpectedly. "This is why I am
here", the words effortlessly rolled through my mind. That's when I
felt the warmth all over me. It enveloped me like a warm blanket.
This is when I saw it, felt it. A heart. The heart of a wonderful
Grandmother, Mother, friend, co-worker and daughter.
Finally, after all this…I feel an immense respect.
Anonymous
Copyright 2003 Anonymous
Reviews and comments requested
Posted 6/17/2003
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