Looking for a laugh? There was always Grace. She could always give out a 
laugh when you needed it. Unfortunately it didn’t make her life happier. She became very nervous and afraid. Instead of letting her laughs brush away the sorrow of age it was just a momentary escape. The weight of life grew heavy on her.
She was a good grandmother. Some of us are born to do certain things and some of us grow into roles. She must have been somewhere in between. She had a rough childhood during the Depression and it weighed heavily on her. She had issues like the rest of us. My own mind wanders down some of the paths she took. It is easy to get down and fear the worst.
Just the other day, her home town suffered a huge fire. I can only imagine what Grace would do in the wake of such a tragedy. The town she loved so much charred and destroyed. I am sure her worries would have manifested into a mood I’m glad she never had the chance to experience.
As a grandchild, I thought the town revolved around my grandparents. When we walked to the store or went to church it seemed as if they were the town’s founding couple. The people shook hands, nods were exchanged and a good laugh. It was as if everyone embraced my grandparents in a communal hug and a pat on the back.
To me it was a great town, better than my own. It had a river you could swim in, cool stores full of toys and ice cream shops. A visit to my grandparents was always a treat. Their house was quaint and clean. The staircase was slick from polish. The smells will never leave my mind. From the apples ripening on the back porch, to the scent of the couch where we’d watch Johnny Carson, to the bedrooms where I would try to sleep in the house I considered sacred.
laugh when you needed it. Unfortunately it didn’t make her life happier. She became very nervous and afraid. Instead of letting her laughs brush away the sorrow of age it was just a momentary escape. The weight of life grew heavy on her.She was a good grandmother. Some of us are born to do certain things and some of us grow into roles. She must have been somewhere in between. She had a rough childhood during the Depression and it weighed heavily on her. She had issues like the rest of us. My own mind wanders down some of the paths she took. It is easy to get down and fear the worst.
Just the other day, her home town suffered a huge fire. I can only imagine what Grace would do in the wake of such a tragedy. The town she loved so much charred and destroyed. I am sure her worries would have manifested into a mood I’m glad she never had the chance to experience.
As a grandchild, I thought the town revolved around my grandparents. When we walked to the store or went to church it seemed as if they were the town’s founding couple. The people shook hands, nods were exchanged and a good laugh. It was as if everyone embraced my grandparents in a communal hug and a pat on the back.
To me it was a great town, better than my own. It had a river you could swim in, cool stores full of toys and ice cream shops. A visit to my grandparents was always a treat. Their house was quaint and clean. The staircase was slick from polish. The smells will never leave my mind. From the apples ripening on the back porch, to the scent of the couch where we’d watch Johnny Carson, to the bedrooms where I would try to sleep in the house I considered sacred.
When things in our lives change, it is as if it happens and we don’t respond. We see the falling leaves but do not contemplate the tree is bare. We don’t appreciate the tree when it is full and we lament when the limbs hold nothing but memories.
As my grandmother aged, I seemed to be unaware of the bare tree. I never contemplated the emptiness that would occur. The laughs were like fall leaves dancing quietly in the air and rustling on the ground.
I sometimes feel as if I’m trying to be more aware of falling leaves of those around me. I contemplate that someday they will no longer hold the gems we remember them by.
Because I did not fully understand, because I was selfishly concerned about myself, I was unaware of what was happening. Maybe I did, but subconsciously I never realized the moments would end. It is in our way of coping we think everything will continue as it is.
Memories beget memories until they are faded from the world. I speak of my grandmother because her memory should not fade. She made me feel as if I had the best grandparents in the world. She succeeded at being a grandmother beyond what she expected in herself. She made me feel normal and special at the same time.
I’m not sure what she would say of me today. I just hope she’d laugh.
When I pass by her old home it is as if the moments we had slowly reacting to their passing come back with a vengeance. It is a slap in the face. What we hold precious today can be gone tomorrow. The smells lingering in my mind are gone on earth. The sights and comforts of what we hold dear vanished.
I have no warm memories of my own home. It was always cold and spooky. But, my grandparent’s home was like a way station on the journey to adulthood. What I learned from them in their home I take with me wherever I go.
Whenever I feel like a laugh is needed, I think of Grace.
As my grandmother aged, I seemed to be unaware of the bare tree. I never contemplated the emptiness that would occur. The laughs were like fall leaves dancing quietly in the air and rustling on the ground.
I sometimes feel as if I’m trying to be more aware of falling leaves of those around me. I contemplate that someday they will no longer hold the gems we remember them by.
Because I did not fully understand, because I was selfishly concerned about myself, I was unaware of what was happening. Maybe I did, but subconsciously I never realized the moments would end. It is in our way of coping we think everything will continue as it is.
Memories beget memories until they are faded from the world. I speak of my grandmother because her memory should not fade. She made me feel as if I had the best grandparents in the world. She succeeded at being a grandmother beyond what she expected in herself. She made me feel normal and special at the same time.
I’m not sure what she would say of me today. I just hope she’d laugh.
When I pass by her old home it is as if the moments we had slowly reacting to their passing come back with a vengeance. It is a slap in the face. What we hold precious today can be gone tomorrow. The smells lingering in my mind are gone on earth. The sights and comforts of what we hold dear vanished.
I have no warm memories of my own home. It was always cold and spooky. But, my grandparent’s home was like a way station on the journey to adulthood. What I learned from them in their home I take with me wherever I go.
Whenever I feel like a laugh is needed, I think of Grace.
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