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My Gigi
My grandmother has always been my rock. My mother and I are unusually close and I appreciate that relationship in a way that’s difficult to explain.
My grandmother is different though.
There’s nothing I could do or say-she never yells at me, she’s quick to lend me $5 or $10 or $100 whether I need it or deserve it, which I rarely do deserve it.
Today after we went to Longhorn’s for my aunt’s birthday, filled with sweet margaritas and medium rare filets, my grandmother-or Gigi as she has affectionately become since the birth of my son-went and had pedicures and manicures at a nice salon in town.
We didn’t talk about anything life changing, in fact, she practically fell asleep in the deep tissue massage chair, but just the comfy air between us two, with the nail tech busy below, was nice.
We always did everything together, she taught me to read, walked me to the library twice a week during the summers when I was small. She would push my hair back and tell me what a beautiful forehead her sweet angel had…
Our days are getting shorter. I see the orange and red in the sky. I get busy and she gets tired chasing my fair-haired baby boy.
When the sun sets, my face won’t be dry for years afterward.
If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed! Posted on May 3rd, 2009 | Memorial, Uncategorized | Leave a comment or Track back.
This is how I was with my Grandfather. I called him ‘Pepe’. And he was one of my best friends in the whole world.
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