Grandmother

I knew one of my grandmothers very well. My mother's mother was a big part of my life, but my father's mother was not. She and my mother did not see eye to eye on much and I saw her very seldom. 

On Christmas Eve my father would take us to visit her while my mother wrapped our gifts and Santa Claus came, but even that stopped when I was nine and she moved far away with my aunt and cousin.

I've always thought that was a shame because I think she was the person I was most like out of our entire family. She was a teacher. She sewed dolls and made clothes. She painted. She loved to read and her gifts, although they came from far away contained the best fudge I've ever eaten in my life. I've spent years trying to replicate it with no success. The toys she sent were quality ones and usually unique.

She was the only person to buy me books and I wasn't allowed to appreciate them at the time. My mother felt they were not great gifts, but looking back now I think they were. My love for ancient people and the Anasazi came from her stories when I was very young. Her Tales That Never Grow Old taught me the old fables and stories with a point. I read fairy tales and the Books of Lands and People. And one book I read, but never quite understood at such a young age was read out loud on Northern Exposure recently. It was Paddle To The Sea. 

I remember that book even though it was not about little girl things and on hearing it again I realize I internalized a lot of it and brought it with me into adulthood. 

Yes, I wish I had been allowed to know this grandmother better. I think I would have felt less like the odd child and I think she would have fostered all those things I loved so much I introduced them to my children. Art, music, embroidery, knitting, sewing, museums, National Parks, history, Bridge and an unending curiosity for the world around me that made me gobble up books like my siblings did candy. Some of these things came from my father, her child, but he often worked three or even four jobs to keep a roof over our head.  She would have had the time to indulge me in things she loved that my mother did not.