My paternal grandmother died before I was born. But I had my maternal grandmother until I was 16. She lived about a quarter mile from us, so we visited her every day. Grandma was pretty special to me, but I guess most of us feel that way about our grandmother/grandparents.
This is the only picture I have of the two of us together. My grandmother is wearing the blue dress and standing directly behind me. That’s my mom on the far left. This picture was just shared with me by a cousin in the past year or so. Old family photos are such treasures.
I remember Grandma as being a very kind, gentle woman who always had time for me. This picture was taken at one of our family reunions. She was mother to twelve, so the reunions were a big deal. Note her corsage (perhaps two?), most likely flowers picked from the yards of her children.
Grandma’s house had a screened-in porch on the side, and I remember many summer days spent visiting with her there. (That was where a friend taught me, as a child, to blow bubbles with bubble gum. What an accomplishment that was.)
But, in later years, her family discovered a mystery. She always celebrated her birthday on June 23. Her daughters, while going through papers after her death, discovered that her birth date was actually June 15. And no one knew why she celebrated it eight days later.
So Happy Birthday tomorrow, Grandma, on the date you chose to celebrate. For whatever the reason.
~These Days Of Mine~