Thank you for running away from the Draper snow to stay with a crazy teenager who really didn’t want any more old folks around. Thank you for enjoying the porch and the sunshine and the flowers in our back yard. Thank you for teaching me about dentures and Ben gay. Thank you for sharing your home with a crazy college student who still didn’t really want to spend all of her time with old people. Thank you for letting me hang your laundry on the line for you and watching you smell the sun dried clothes. Thank you for not always being a sweet and loving grandmother.
I love to remember you playing “Come, Come, Ye Saints” on the piano. I love to remember the home that Grandpa built for you, every nook and cranny. I love to remember you falling asleep during General Conference talks and waking up for the songs. I love to remember your garden and the flowers you took to church. I love to remember giving you hugs and holding your arm as you walked. Thank you for the histories you left us. Thank you for the struggles you over came in life through your Faith and the ones you simply endured because of your Faith. Thank you for being that stalwart connection to others who also sacrificed so much for their Faith.
Every memory of you is a cherished treasure.
Love,
Verena
Grandma’s Attic
Grandma’s attic is full of strange inventions,
worn out tools, and snatches of memories.
Each fits together as the pages of a book.
This book teaches tomorrow’s grandmas’
about the lessons common to yesterday, today and tomorrow,
These lessons then infuse new life
into grandma’s attic full of strange inventions,
worn out tools and snatches of memories.
I guess it's a poem . . .
written in response to Arleta Richardson's In Grandma's Attic.
(Good grief! What is that costume I have on???)
