Heart

Grandma’s House

Added 2020-06-10 03:05:34 +0000 UTC

My grandparents are moving to a smaller home. They’re still alive. All 4 of them are actually, even though I’m 38 years old. Isn’t that wild?

I feel lucky to know them and spend time with them now and then, when life allows. I call and send cute notes in the mail with pictures and memories. I love them all so dearly. They’re in their 80’s, in varying states of health. But those are good genes and I’ve been blessed to have so many adult years with their stories and wisdom in my ear.

So many generations of young brides, young mothers. Me too. Though I didn’t see it that way myself at the time. I thought I was different. But I am my mother’s daughter, and she is hers.

The chaise I’m draped across in this photo doesn’t fit in their new place. I found it years ago at a yard sale and gave it to my grandfather. He was obsessed with refinishing antiques at the time and this one had character. He loved it, and promised me one day I’d get to take it back. The day has come.

I don’t have room for it at home, our house is small and crowded as it is, but it would be nice in the woods. In the attic of our cabin there’s a big window that looks out over the treetops. You have to use the ladder to get up there and the kids have decorated half of it like a jungle, but it’s the perfect spot for a fainting bench my grandpa fixed up.

Photo: March 2013, at my grandma’s house, while everyone else was sleeping.