this is the time of year I miss you most.
Hi, Grandpa.
It's Courtney. I haven't talked to you in a while, but I have been thinking about you a lot lately.
I miss the house and how it served as an anchor for the various traveling members of our family that we don't see nearly enough anymore. They almost feel like strangers now without you. I miss sitting on the deck with the whole crazy family around us celebrating assorted holidays and birthdays.
I miss the chill of the pool after a hot, sticky summer day of working in the yard. I always used to think it was too cold, no matter what the weather was like outside. It sounds so strange, but I've never ached for a temperature so much in my whole life. I think it's because of the way you used to laugh at us as we would fuss and and carry on in the "arctic waters."
I miss you gently taking my elbow and pointing out all of your favorite and most beautiful flowers in the garden.
I miss your laugh when Justin or Dad would do something ridiculous.
I miss your smile.
I was watching a robin in a berry tree on the patio at my office. As it fluttered from branch to branch, picking berries and gobbling them up, I was reminded of the time you gave me a robin's nest to take in to school late one spring. Our class never had an official "Show-And-Tell," but I couldn't wait to 'wow' my teacher the symbol of new life my Grandpa gave me. The intricate weaving fit perfectly in the hollow of my tiny second grade hands and contained three small, blue-speckled eggs.
I acted as if those eggs were solid gold. In my mind, if I could get them home and take care of them, I could hatch them myself and be human mother robin. I held them with kid gloves and my little babies survived most of the day, despite the man-handling only a classroom full of seven year-olds could provide. It was only when my childhood clumsiness got the better of me and I tripped that 2 of the eggs went flying from the nest to splatter on the floor. I cried for 2 days straight mourning my baby robins and thinking how I disappointed you.
I still fear that I'm disappointing you with the life I'm leading right now. As I twist Grandma's sapphire on my right ring finger, I worry that I'm not the person that you both hoped I would be. I only hope that wherever you are, you still love me and the gardens are green and full of flowers.
Moral of the Story: I just miss you, Grampie.
It's Courtney. I haven't talked to you in a while, but I have been thinking about you a lot lately.
I miss the house and how it served as an anchor for the various traveling members of our family that we don't see nearly enough anymore. They almost feel like strangers now without you. I miss sitting on the deck with the whole crazy family around us celebrating assorted holidays and birthdays.
I miss the chill of the pool after a hot, sticky summer day of working in the yard. I always used to think it was too cold, no matter what the weather was like outside. It sounds so strange, but I've never ached for a temperature so much in my whole life. I think it's because of the way you used to laugh at us as we would fuss and and carry on in the "arctic waters."
I miss you gently taking my elbow and pointing out all of your favorite and most beautiful flowers in the garden.
I miss your laugh when Justin or Dad would do something ridiculous.
I miss your smile.
I was watching a robin in a berry tree on the patio at my office. As it fluttered from branch to branch, picking berries and gobbling them up, I was reminded of the time you gave me a robin's nest to take in to school late one spring. Our class never had an official "Show-And-Tell," but I couldn't wait to 'wow' my teacher the symbol of new life my Grandpa gave me. The intricate weaving fit perfectly in the hollow of my tiny second grade hands and contained three small, blue-speckled eggs.
I acted as if those eggs were solid gold. In my mind, if I could get them home and take care of them, I could hatch them myself and be human mother robin. I held them with kid gloves and my little babies survived most of the day, despite the man-handling only a classroom full of seven year-olds could provide. It was only when my childhood clumsiness got the better of me and I tripped that 2 of the eggs went flying from the nest to splatter on the floor. I cried for 2 days straight mourning my baby robins and thinking how I disappointed you.
I still fear that I'm disappointing you with the life I'm leading right now. As I twist Grandma's sapphire on my right ring finger, I worry that I'm not the person that you both hoped I would be. I only hope that wherever you are, you still love me and the gardens are green and full of flowers.
Moral of the Story: I just miss you, Grampie.