On Wednesday Kyle and the boys and I drove over to Utah from Colorado to spend a few days with his family before we move home to NC. The boys were so good and watched several movies during the nine hour trip, so Kyle and I were able to spend several hours talking. It was so nice.
We discussed everything on this road trip from baseball to houses and from religion to politics. Of course, our conversation landed upon Grant, Emily, Kevin, and their entire family. As we spoke of our gratitude for technology, brilliant doctors, and miraculous treatments, I couldn't help but think about my Uncle Denny, and my grandparents, Charlie William and Margarette. Much like Grant, Denny was a vibrant and strong little boy; and much like Emily and Kevin, grandma and granddaddy were loving and attentive parents. Denny was a little older than Grant when he was diagnosed with leukemia, but there was one huge difference-time. I am so thankful that in this day and age, doctors have been inspired and guided to find treatments that not only fight symptoms, but heal little boys and girls of this terrible disease. I am so sad that my uncle, Denny, wasn't able to receive these treatments and that my grandparents had to suffer losing a son at 9 years old.
I admire my grandparents for their strength and long-suffering and I am in awe of my sister and her husband for the way they have chosen to react to this obstacle placed before them. It would be so easy to get mad and say why me, but it is through these trials that Heavenly Father proves who we really are, and they have definitely proven themselves to be strong and faithful parents. I am so thankful for their example.
As Kyle and I discussed my grandparents, I began to have a flood of memories from my childhood. My grandma was the epitomy of what a grandmother should be. In my mind's eye she was always cooking or baking something, usually light bread or bread pudding, but always something. She always wore a house coat and cloth shoes from Roses or Maxway. Most of the time her hair was messed up from where she's taken a nap earlier that day. She loved
The Young and the Restless and
The Price is Right and watched both religiously. She had the most contagious laugh (which will never die as long as Leah's around). She wore clip on ear rings and she had beaded necklaces in every color. She had a white house with a white picket fence that granddaddy built. She had the best swing ever on her front porch and a few rocking chairs that all had black paint chipping off of them. Right by the front steps there was a bright pink hydreanga bush that she absolutely loved. Around the corner of the house were those little pink flowers that had clover-like leaves. She had the best tree ever in her front yard that he nearly every grandchild's name carved in it. I've climbed to the top more times than I can count, much to granddaddy's chagrin. He was scared to death we were gonna "get killed." Luckily, none of us ever did.
There was a honeysuckle in the back yard that smelled heavenly. There was a gigantic heater in the kitchen that I still can't quite comprehend why it was so big! In the winter, she'd always block the front of the house off with an accordian door so they didn't have to heat the front two rooms, therefore in my memories, those two rooms were always cold. She al'ways had Coca Cola in the glass bottle in the fridge for granddaddy, but we'd always drink them as soon as we walked in the door. We almost got a good old fashioned switching one night after emptying grandma's fridge, but luckily our pre-switching screams were so loud, our neighbor came over to see what the fuss was all about! (We had been forewarned to stay out of the kitchen!)
I have such vivid memories of swinging on the porch and watching it rain. The smell is still so vivid in my mind. We would sit on that porch for hours and count the cars passing by. We'd all pick a color and at the end, the person whose color had passed my most won the game. We'd run circles around her house over and over again. We'd play Red-Rover in the front yard, but, as we all know, no one would ever send me right over! I'm still scarred by that! We'd play the egg game on the front steps where you'd approach the person on the front step and say, "Do you have any eggs," and they'd reply, "What color." Then you would begin saying colors and when you said their color, they'd take off running and you had to catch them. It sounds pretty stupid thinking about it now, but boy was it fun back then.
We'd go to the landing and play in the water. We'd pick up shells and bottles and torment Uncle Mike's crabs. I was nearly decapitated once on a bike ride down to the landing, but I lived to tell about it, so I guess it wasn't as bad as I remember! I also almost had my hand blown off by a firework down there one Fourth of July, but I don't have any scars from that either.
I could go on for days, but I won't. I loved that house and I love the two people who lived there. Soon after granddaddy died, so did the house, but in my mind it's still there. I am still 6 years old and grandma is still swinging on the porch while granddaddy waits at the landing for Uncle Mike to come back in. I am so thankful for memories. I am so lucky to have so many good ones.
