Way back in April, my grandmother finally got to meet little Bennett. It meant so much to me that my grandmother finally got to meet the little baby we had all been praying for. Grandma June had been such a big part of my life growing up, watching me when I got the chicken pox and my mom had to work. She came to Grandparents Day at my elementary school. She cheered me on at my dance recitals and at my graduation. We were finally able to get the four generations together, and I'm so grateful we captured it on film, or uhh memory.
When I was a tender sweet young thing, I remember making annual trips to Minneota, Minnesota to meet the matriarch of our family, my great grandma Cora. Grandma Cora had trouble seeing and at four years old, I thought it was so neat that she had hot pink nail polish on her stove and her thermostat. I just found it unfortunate that she allowed polish on her appliances and not on my fingers. Trips to Minneota also included spam sandwiches and visits to Aunt Agnes's for a new pair of homemade underwear.
Now that we live a few hundred miles closer to our parents, Bennett will have two grandmas around for the school plays, football games and bouts of chicken pox. Instead of meat in a can, he'll have memories of Richie Creme and cow calls. And it's times like a birthday that remind me just how fast time flies and how in thirty years, it might be me holding a grandbaby. The first twenty-nine flew, I know the next twenty-nine will be here in a flash. I wonder what my legacy will be, bad shoes, turkey meatloaf or an online diary of nonsense?
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