2005
On August 16th I believe my Grandma smiled. Smiled, for she was freed. Freed to be with my Grandpa, her husband and love. And now she remembers. Finally she remembers. And she smiles. Smiles that warm Grandma smile… the one that comforts only the way she knows how.
Endless memories. I want to open and release- from those 630 Weber Road garder-snake- chasing-summers, to those late Sunday afternoon carport barbecues.
Hand churning that homemade ice cream.
Sprinting to the peak of that frail-mountain-sized-porous-levy…
Reaching the top and looking back to see Grandma smiling from the front yard.
Rummy Royal laughs and the parental Sunday Euchre tournaments.
Endless memories.
Summer of ‘81 or ’82… I’m not 100%. Lake Wappapello… Wappapello
(what a great that name). Grandma, Grandpa, Matthew and me.
A deep-sea-fishing-expedition.
That maroon station wagon loaded…
bait filled.
Rods ready to reel.
Reel the anticipation.
Reel the serenity.
I remember this so clearly… Grandpa captained our vessel across the lake like an admiral.
The tuk of the motor.
The buzz of the dragon flies.
The Gars (Grandpa despised those Gars).
The Bass.
The Catfish.
One afternoon we set across the calm shine to one of the secret "good spots." The spot where all the fish were camped out at. The secret fish base. The tuk of the motor sputters out as Grandpa tips the off switch. And we anchor. Grandpa baits Matthew’s hook and Grandma mine. And whoosh we cast. Whoosh. Whoosh. And whoosh we cast and cast and cast. Cast to empty hooks. Those fish we’re seasoned veterans. They treated our hooks like a Sunday buffet dinner.
As I gladly fed the fish Grandma would caution me about my cast, " be careful your hook is close to me when you cast." "Okay Grandma I will." The cast continued. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. And on my third cast… rod over my right shoulder, ready to extend and drop my line into the secret layer of the fish camp…back went my rod… and as I swung forward the line jerked. Hmmmm. I heard Grandma say "Oh." A gentle calm "Oh." Then I turned to see my hook planted into the corner of her right eyelid. She gently removed the hook herself. Right there in the boat. She never yelled. She softly said, "I’m alright… just be more careful."
Endless patience. Endless warmth.
One of the reasons my Mom and Dad moved us from Rhode Island to Missouri was for my brother and I to have Grandparents. I remember when we moved I missed that sea salt Narragansett breeze. Missed it so much.
I’d trade the sea salt today for just another moment with Grandma. I miss her so much.
Today… right now… I believe she’s smiling. Fishing with Grandpa in Celestial Lake Wappapello. Whipping up some crust for a lemon meringue pie. Picking tomatoes in the garden. She’s smiling. And she’s finally remembering.
