Thursday, June 30, 2016
You might look at this picture and think, "Clean your kitchen, you pig," which...fine. When I look at this picture, I see my grandma's influence. There's the big box fan too keep us cool. There's the counter full of snacks. There's my lunch, which I'm eating at 1pm sharp. There's the red-checked tablecloth. There's my speaker playing a compilation of classical music. There are my paints, which I'm using to make my own greeting cards. There's the dog, who has nothing to do with any of this, but is in it anyway.
I think of my grandma often. I don't know any one of her descendants who doesn't. When I hear a wind chime, I think of sitting on her porch while she'd fan herself in her wooden chair by the door. When I smell chocolate, I think of the stashes she'd hide in containers marked "tampons," or "chopped liver." When I whistle (terribly), I think of her cheery melodies at 4am, as she worked through her morning routine.
Her idea of Facebook was posting photos and notes from the family on her fridge. Her idea of Skype was a phone call inviting her grandchildren to come see her. Well before people were filling Instagram with inspirational uploads, she was taping funny quotes she'd found to her wall.
Every time I convince a dinner guest to take leftovers, or turn a five minute chat into an hour-long conversation, I think of my grandma. Every time I discover a discount store, or a new crafting hobby, I wish I could share it with her. When I think about my behavior, and how I can help others, I look to her example. My grandma was a powerful force, and one of the best people I've ever known.
It's been four years since my grandma died, and I miss her.