My Grandmother and Me

I seem to have gotten an unpleasant bug from the antibiotic I was given by Dr Doom for my infected thumb. (How many times have I invoked the immortal words of grandson Peter re going to the doctor?) The thumb is now fine, but I feel disinclined to leave the house today, so I moped around, blipping the only things I went near--the compost pile, my nightstand full of books and magazines (and an iPad) and....the hands down winner....a picture of my grandmother and me, which is hanging on the wall of my our office.

It is very old and quite a bit the worse for wear, but I love it. I love her old fashioned dress and my ratty t-shirt. I love our expressions, our matching postures and the old fashioned porch swing we are sitting on. I wonder what we were saying to each other?It looks like a nice moment to have been captured in time.

My grandmother taught me to knit and to bake, and she died, not long after this picture was taken, of some kind of heart complication. I don't remember her very well, yet she is very much a part of my life because of the things she left behind, furniture, silver and pictures.

It's really not how important or illustrious our forebears were, but the things they leave behind, however mundane, that give us a sense of legitimacy and go some way to answering the questions that we never thought to ask....