An ode to my grandmother

(Except not really, because it takes too much effort to rhyme at 6:00 in the morning)

I usually write because I want to, because I can, because I have something to say.  I don’t always remember that people are going to be reading what I write, in fact, it commonly surprises me when someone reveals that they have read my blog.  And although I’ve known for quite sometime now that my grandma has been on my frequent reader lists, it still manages to slip my mind.  Which is why this piece is dedicated to her.

A month or so ago I wrote a bucket list, though I capped the deadline at 30 instead of when I die (that is presuming I don’t die before 30).  The first thing on that list is to learn how to play the guitar, however a slight complication arose in the fact that I don’t own a guitar.  A tremendous surprise awaited me when I arrived at my grandma’s house.  My mom’s old guitar, now mine, sat in the corner of my room.  I never thought that something would ever come out writing a blog, I guess it pays every once in awhile, in the most random yet wonderful of ways.

My first real break from school, Thanksgiving weekend, and I was lucky enough to be able to spend it with my grandma.  I flew in Tuesday afternoon, and after the drive to her house that lasted three hours and should only have lasted one, she fixed me dinner while we watched the evening news before heading to bed.  The moment I walk into my grandma’s house I know that I’m home; the familiar scent of the house, the stencils on the wall that used to fascinate me as a small child, the intricate and tasteful way the rooms are decorated, each with a different theme, yet all fitting perfectly together.

I have been doing fine at school, and while at times I have been stressed or tired, I didn’t really think I needed a break from school, I could pull on through till the semester ended.  However once I got away I realized how nice it was to take a break from school and just relax, and what a better place to do that than at my grandmother’s house?

Most children love going to Grandma’s House.  No homework, lots of neat things to look at, and free cookies!  However it’s more than just that.  It the presence of someone who truly cares, and is ready to do anything to keep you content.  It’s the selfless love, the warm countenance, and the sweet voice of someone who loves you, and will keep you safe no matter what. 

Thank you Grandma, for letting me come visit, for taking care of me, for always being there, for wonderful surprises, and yes, for reading my blog.

So now, as I sit in the airport awaiting my flight, I am thankful that my grandma got me up at 4:45, so that I could arrive at the gate two hours early, and have time to write this and express my thanks for everything she has done for me, in the hope that I can someday match her kindness and love as well.