I am constantly reminded of my blessings as I move into my new apartment. I have a lot of things I was given as a gift for a special occasion, and I have a lot of things that came to me as a surprise and I loved just the same. As I unpack I remember not only the time that I acquired the possession, but who gave it to me. And unfortunately, some of the people who have passed on are the one who have passed on their belongings to me.
I just took the obligatory Thanksgiving Day nap. This year I did have some turkey, so maybe it was the tryptophan, but I had a strange dream. The very bed frame that I was just snoozing upon used to be at my paternal grandparents’ house. The artwork I finally mounted to the wall in my new family room was my maternal family’s heirloom art. It has always been in the front room of every one of my apartments.
In my dream I was in the same room with both of my grandmothers. They each were sitting, the room was dimly lit, and I was there enjoying their company. I turned to talk to my maternal grandmother and I said “I wish we had more time.” True to her character, she smiled and nodded, showing off her infectious smile and the twinkle in her eyes behind thick glasses. She said “We will.” I was crying in the dream. I leaned in to hug her, but it was as if she had already vanished. Definitely, as I awakened I felt that I experienced a real “Our Town” moment.
I am grateful for all of my relatives, past and present. There are too many names to list them all. This year I am especially grateful for every person in my life that has supported me in my quests for love, health, education, and the continual pursuit of my writing goals. Both of my grandmothers supported me best emotionally. I am grateful that I did have time with each of them. Just as my parents do, my grandmothers loved me unconditionally, and they truly understood me.
I am grateful for every memory that I have of my relatives. The grandparents, aunts and uncles who are no longer here have left a lasting impact on my life. The best presents I ever received for Christmas didn’t come in wrapping paper. They all gave freely of their laughter, their hugs, their comedic wit, their stories of Christmases past, and their cooking. They gave me love through our family gatherings.
I am grateful for the family gathering I attended today at my sister-in-law’s childhood home.
Family means feeling at home. At my new place, I am feeling at home; I am hanging nails at the wall, and next spring I might even plant flowers in the dirt.
Family means roots that go back generations. The angels who have left our company keep influencing the family story.
writerundle 