My Gramma Betty tells a story about her grea-grandmother stealing into her room through the window late at night to sleep on her bedroom floor. Great-grandmother lived in a lodge in the mountains and refused to move into the modest cabin where my grandmother spent summers with her grandparents. Great-Grandmother spoke no English and often spoke little at all. But my Gramma Betty remembers her agility and sense of humor best--particularly her twinkling eyes winking at her as she would climb out of the window before dawn. She never told anyone Great-Grandmother spent the coldest nights of winter, not in the Lodge where she kept things in the old way, but on the bare wooden floor next to Gramma Bettys girlhood bed. I dont know why I woke up thinking of Great-Grandmother... but I think I will go to visit my Gramma tomorrow.
Posted on: Sat, 08 Nov 2014 13:05:07 +0000
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