Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Circle of Life

A little piece of Heaven

It's been so long since I have journaled I scarcely know where to begin. In the time since my last post, so much has transpired. I am the overjoyed mama to a new daughter and I mourn the loss of my precious Grandma Ruby, not to mention the countless little things that combine to create the minutes, days, hours, weeks that are my life.  I was studying Grandma's picture on my fridge this morning, as I often do, where she stands, frozen in time, blue eyes squinting in the unrelenting sun, donning her infamous butterfly hat, arm-and-arm with Grandpa, a smile stretched across her face. I can still hear her voice, the way that only she said my name (always "Kelly Ann," never just "Kelly,") and I can conjure up her laugh as clear as if she were in the room with me, sitting across the kitchen table, telling me all her stories of days gone by. I can see her hands, the way her fingers curled a bit, covered with beautiful brown spots that attest to the long, hard days spent in the sun weeding other people's gardens and tending horses.  I can't count the number of times since her passing that I have had to stop myself from picking up the phone to call her. Rare bird sitings, something funny one of the girls said, that stubborn food stain in my favorite shirt, they all scream to be shared with Grandma. She would appreciate, she would chuckle along with me the way only Grandma could, she would offer her old-time remedies. I am forced to search for new meaning in little things such as these, for the luster in them dulls a bit when I realize I can no longer share them with Grandma.  Tears fall like rain today as I allow myself to remember, to feel, to mourn her huge presence in my life once again. My heart is heavy. Maybe I am finally realizing the finality of it all.  Maybe. But it all still seems so surreal...

And then there is a stirring in the next room where soft lullabies plays. A soft coo that sings to my mama-heart; my precious Anna, fresh from Heaven, smelling of warm milk and baby.  Her tiny, perfect body, soft and unblemished. Tiny, wiggly toes, hair like velvet, pudgy cheeks that beckon my kisses, and I find my smile again.  My eyes meet hers and we speak that special language that only Mama and Baby know. Her searching, reaching hands grasp my fingers. She's strong. And I realize, God-willing, these small hands, still so fresh and new, will one day weed gardens, maybe even tend horses. In the meantime, I'll relish in these rocking, snuggling, nuzzling, blowing bubbles days, these little things that thankfully make up my minutes, hours, days, weeks...  I love my little blue-eyed Anna-girl. Huh. Blue eyes... Just like Grandma.