Sunday celebrated Grandparent's Day. My parents are both visiting and getting to know their first grandchild. I grew up knowing my mother's father and my father's mother. They've both been the subject of my writings.
Grandpa was ancient. Even my mother claims she can't remember when he didn't have white hair. He was ornery, too. Being with him was like crawling inside a time machine. He made me view life in a simple way. Whether it was savoring a corn dog or simply communing with the earth from his garden, he found joy. I think of him often and try to remember that happiness can be found as easily on a porch swing with a glass of sweet tea as it can by juggling a jillion different social engagements. He also taught me to pay attention to dialect. It took a long time to explain my trip to Italy because his version only had two syllables: Itlee.
Grandma is spunky. Contrary to my grandfather, her hair has never turned white. Actually, I don't think she's allowed her hair stylist to even allow a grey hair to escape. Grandma is a yellow dog Democrat and a committed Baptist. As a child, I was convinced she was related to Santa Clause because she mostly wore red and always showed up at Christmas with big bags filled with gifts. Instead of a ho,ho,ho, though, her constant laughter is a "Wheeee!" She's always been a trailblazer, modeling what a modern woman can do--run her own business, travel to her heart's content, be active in politics, participate in the community, love her family and much more.
Grandparents are special people.
Journal: Write about a grandparent. It doesn't even have to be your own. Perhaps it can be you as a grandparent. Remember, journals don't have to be true stories. You can write fiction!
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