Saturday, November 7
baby, it's cold outside
It's been so warm here in California this fall that it's hard to believe it's November.
Except for today. Today I walked outside and turned right back around to grab my jacket. Granted, it was in the sixties, but there was a definite wind chill. Brrr...
So this photo. I love this photo. From the left is my grandma Jean, grandpa Ernest, grandpa's sister-in-law Dorothy, his brother Don, and at the bottom is my grandma's sister, Margaret.
Don't you love everything about my Auntie Margaret in this photo?
First of all, she's beautiful. And then you can just tell she has this zest for life.
As a child, I adored her. I still do. And although she passed away several years ago, I still think of her from time to time. I remember her smile most of all. And her accessories. The way she lifted her pinky finger when she drank tea. She was graceful and the perfect host. Genuine.
Whenever I look at this picture I want to climb inside. Climb inside and get to know her.
Not as a child but as a friend.
Do you ever wonder what your grandparents were like at your age? Sometimes it's hard to imagine them as young, with ambitions and dreams, their whole life still wide open. By the time we've met them, they are wise to the ways of the world, the fears and insecurities have fled and they are free to be themselves. But I also feel like maybe they have lost a small part of themselves.
And that's the part I'll never meet, seen only in old photographs, stories from the past.