Memory in a Photograph

"She was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen,"
recalled my grandfather.

My brother and I were sitting cross-legged on
the living room floor. Doug was watching a western
movie on the television, and I was idly looking
through one of my grandparents' photo albums.

One of the photographs of my grandmother had caught
Grandpa's attention. His usual hearty, buoyant
laughter was gone, and his demeanor was quiet and
reflective. Suddenly, Grandpa's story had our full
attention.

In his earlier years, my grandfather had been a tall,
big-framed and muscular man used to working outdoors.
The man in front of us was still larger than life to
me and my five-year-old brother, but now his shoulders
were stooped and his hands knotted with arthritis.

He sat on the edge of the couch and studied us both,
as if trying to determine whether we were old enough
to fully appreciate what he was going to tell us.

His gaze then turned to our grandmother sitting a few
feet away. His eyes softened as he related the story
of how they met.

His first glimpse of his future bride happened while
she was in the company of her father and two of her
sisters. Her father was conducting business, and the
girls were sitting nearby in the back of his old pickup
.
As he warmed up to his story, Grandma's hands become
still, and her crochet lay in a colorful fold on her lap.
She listened to the familiar old story, caught up in the
tale that we were hearing for the first time. She smiled
warmly back at him.

"While her daddy was busy with some other gentlemen,"
he said, "I was busy watching her and her two sisters.
They were sitting there in the back of that old pickup,
feet dangling and swinging, giggling and whispering to
each other. She had the reddest hair, and she was about
the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. I just couldn't help
myself..."

Grandma was beaming with pleasure by this time. It wasn't
too often Grandpa was this romantic, and she was enjoying
the compliments. "...and so I just ran right over there,
and bit her on the hind leg."

A thunderous frown knitted my grandmother's forehead,
and her dainty fine eyebrows drew close together. Her
mouth rounded into a horrified "Oh" as her blue eyes
flashed. "Merle, you did not! Mercy, don't you be telling
stories like that to these grandkids!"

But the damage was done. My brother and I clutched our
middles as we rolled backwards in the floor, unable to
control our laughter. Her tirade continued, to no effect.
Grandpa laughed as hard as the rest of us.

Appearing miffed, Grandma picked up her crochet and started
threading the yarn through her fingers, but I saw the quick
look she sent my grandfather, complete with a wink. It was
the same expression captured in the photograph in front of me.

I was reminded again years later of that look. It was a few
months after my grandmother's death. I was sitting in their
living room once again, visiting with Grandpa. I picked up
an old photo album and began flipping through the pages, and
came across the same photograph of Grandma.

She must have been about eighteen in the picture. She had a
little hat perched on her head, and was tossing a saucy look
back over her shoulder. She was laughing, and I was struck
by how beautiful she had been.

Then I noticed that Grandpa had become quiet. He was sitting
next to me, leaning over to look at the photograph. He reached
over and placed a callused finger on the page. He studied the
image a few moments longer, before saying softly, "That there...
that there's the reason I fell in love with her." Then he
turned to me and grinned. "Did I ever tell you about the first
time I saw her? Prettiest thing I'd ever seen..."

Author Unknown

 

 

Treasures

A gentle hush falls as the evening encircles
the end of yet another day.

A soft wind whispers through the leaves
and sings a song to all creation.

I wonder at the beauty of yet another day.
Some have gone about their day in a hurry
and not taken one moment to see the beauty
of a robin heading to it's nest
or heard the laughter of a child...
or spoken a kind word to another.

In our hurry to accomplish all the success we seek
we miss what is really important...
our families, friends,
playing with our children and grandchildren.
They are the true treasures of our life.

It is not what we have in the bank,
or if we belong to the right clubs in town.
No, true riches in this life
can't be found in a savings account,
they can't be placed on an end table to gather dust.

You don't hide or tuck away your true treasures.

 

 

 

To Feel

In this deep void of silence,
Not a word between us is heard,
But I am connected to your presence ...
Our silence speaks a thousand words.
Too many too keen to speak their parts,
But none really listen with their hearts.
And many do hear the voice of the other,
But have stopped talking to one another.
I am glad we are not like that
‘Cause in silence we still connect.
Love exists within the heart,
And those we love cannot be apart.
Not to be separated by distance or by silence ...
‘Cause within our heart there are the connections
To feel their presence whether near or far,
To feel the solitude of a lonely star,
To feel the joy of early spring,
To feel the sadness of a broken wing.
So in silence we still connect,
And those we love, we never forget.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Music playing: "When A Man Loves A Woman"