The Spirit of My Grandmother

Surrounded my the familiarness of my childhood home, I find myself stopping to marvel at the trees, the squirrels, and even the long ago walked on sidewalk with the exact same cracks and uplifted slabs from roots of massive trees.

Just like that it hits me.  A moment where I stop in my tracks and smell the familiar smell of my childhood.  I am not certain what the scent is but I know it well.  It is so familiar that even my cells even tremble.  It is like being transported 40 years into the past and I am now sitting beneath her giant tree waiting patiently for her to call me for her world-class home cooked dinner.  The smells of her cooking mixed with the aroma of old, old trees fill my senses.  I look to see that the old homes have changed just so slightly.  I recall with great fondness of our walks down to the Woolworth store past the homes that then looked so daunting.

I watch with awe at the silver-haired elders across the street as they toil in their yard; soft gloves on and old pails for water, straw brooms and yard shoes.  I remember her gloves, her shovels and the way she would daintily pick at her posies.

I see the squirrels run up and down the trees and remember the famous squirrel named Peggy who she faithfully laid peanuts out for.  Each morning peeking through her back door hoping to catch of glimpse of this mysterious yet beloved critter.  I hear bird song again today that I used to wake me on summer mornings to begin another adventure with her.

She is with me every single day.  I never realized just how much I missed her until I have been inundated with her energy and her presence. Each day I feel her.  I sense her.  And I miss her.

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