The door creaks open when I walked into my grandmother’s crawlspace/attic room. I look around, seeing discarded boxes laying on the floor, cardboard shards and cobwebs littering the floor. I’m struggling to breathe as I walk through the dust that probably settled 40 years ago. One ornate box catches my eye, and I go to open it. I get sidetracked though when I see old high school yearbooks that probably belonged to my dad.I take a peek inside the books, and I look for my dad’s smiling face from the 80’s. After I glance through memories and notes of long ago, I go back to the box that first caught my eye. I lift up the lid of the box, and at first all I see is black and white. I then realize that these are old photographs of my grandmother’s past. She used to sneak out all the time, I quickly come to assume! Knowing that good stories are about to be unfolded through these photographs, I dump the pictures out, my eyes scanning what lies before me. I grab several pictures and retreat through the creaking door, ready to have my grandmother tell me what these are pictures of, and why she decided to keep these memories after all these years.
I could write about my grandmother over and over, too. I bet she enjoyed telling you about the pictures and the whole other side of her they represent. Isn't it interesting to look at the notes in your dad's yearbook? One message in my dad's had been completely blacked out with a marker and I've always been curious about it since I found it as a teenager. I'll never ask though. You don't take marker to your yearbook for no good reason.
ReplyDeleteGood morning, M'Kenna,
ReplyDeleteI can tell your grandmother is very important to you. This story was an endearing fragment of your relationship with her and the fantastic life she must've lead. I can't imagine the stories she can and has told you about her past. I wonder how much her past has shaped your future?
Have a lovely night,
Zachary