#31: Roots and Wings
Sweet Amy ceaselessly reminds me how important it is to remember and appreciate ones roots. Roots, after all, give us wings.
About a year ago my beautiful and courageous Gram passed away just shy of her 97th birthday.
This picture knocked me and Sis’s socks straight off when we came across it while sorting through the miles of piles of pictures that were up at the house because it was the first photograph we had ever seen or found of her taken prior to the mid 1940’s. This is a scene from her first marriage to a man named Syd. My Aunt Sandra was born in 1936, which must set this photograph just prior– Gram was probably just about my own tender age of 24 here (please don’t contrast and compare, her eyebrows make mine look like two carelessly pruned cactuses). A lavishly ravishing beauty.
I’d like to think I inherited each and every one of her qualities, all brilliant, kind, independent and pure– I should be so lucky to have gleaned even a fraction of her character. What I did inherit was her hopefully endearing and tireless use of the term “darling”. (And a dangerous sweet tooth. And an obsession with white-washed antique furniture. And bountiful applications of lipstick. And an unfounded appreciation for tie-dye…)
(What I gained from my aunts is an epidemic love of impractical hats, I see.)
On a cold winter’s night, this one goes out to the world’s all-time loveliest: our grandmothers.