Tag Archive: grandma


Sunday afternoon, drinking tea with Grandma Flora (my namesake!)…

A cup older than me, all baroque, made of chalk.

Sky not bluer than our eyes.

Family with three generations of blue eyes.

Home not really home anymore, still and warm.

Afternoon in amber and silence.

Peace and sighs.

Strings of dialogue unimaginable, loving her more than myself.

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There was a ring I never took off when I was no more than a teen girl.
It wasn’t valuable, found it dirty and dusty at the end of a drawer in a long before abandoned house.
It missed a little tiny diamond on its cast and it was so tiny in size I could only wear it on my left ring finger.
The center stone was a smoothed out ruby with a square shape.
But the beauty in it was not the stones.
It was in the fine work on the silver.
The thin veneers running along the sides in fragile, intricate leaves that could only be made by hand and with skill.
I never seen since a work like that ever.
It fitted my finger to the point I thought it was made for me and me alone.
It was probably just a cheap trinket bought at a fair or something like that in the time when my grandmother was just a young girl.
She’s 96 now, I’m 30 and the ring is still with me.
Worthless and consumed, but the silver still shines and fits somewhat.
The leaves are still there and they mean a world never gone to me.
Afternoons and evenings, card games and teas, red roses and blue hydrangeas.

You have forgotten, Gran.
I did not.
You can’t remember.
I shall do it for you for all the time I’m still given on this Earth.

tea-party-sharing-tea-with-grandma-1936-mike-savad

[coloured photo by Mike Savad]
[https://pixels.com/featured/tea-party-sharing-tea-with-grandma-1936-mike-savad.html]

I’m so tired I could sleepwalk.
And falling asleep with music blasting on from headphones while I’m trying to finish some accounting is never a good thing.
Gran is still here but now seems so much more herself I almost think this is a dream…
And I’m so tired I feel like I’ll never start writing again.
Goodnight then to those who still can have good dreams.

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Grandma is in the hospital, I do think these are her last.
I just spent a whole afternoon sitting beside her bed worrying inside like a mother hen.
And she…she doesn’t remember a thing, you could say to her that it’s winter and she would trust everyone openly.
She smiled at me all the time and I don’t really know how I smiled back.
“Oh but I can see, dear. How she looks at you, the light in her eyes, she adores you!”
And that’s why I’m so afraid…when the time will come something will crack with absurd force.
I’m just so tired I could sleep through summer, miss the faces of all the flowers I ever seen her nurture with care.

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