“We didn’t realize we were making memories, we just knew we were having fun” –Winnie The Pooh.
That was grandma’s magic: time shared. It was a gift that she bestowed me. She taught me that the simple things can be filled with precious memories. She taught me the value of being in the moment, whatever it is, because there is no better place to be.
There was no place I wanted to be in the summers then at my grandparent’s cottage, but somedays it felt like grandma had different ideas. It was in those moments that thoughts of the cool lake taunted me as the hours of heat seemed to slip away and I struggled with feeling trapped and irritated. Regardless, grandma always remained patient and focused on the task at hand.
In one such instance that sweet berry smell was alive in the humidity of the air but sadly I couldn’t see the beauty of the moment while I was in it. Instead I watched her crouched low. She was completely lost to the act of picking and filling buckets. She was oblivious to the time ticking by, time that was marked by sweat beads and anxious energy focused on anywhere but where I was. Her pale blue pedal pushers topped with a sleeveless white blouse stood out against the greens and browns of the berry patch. Watching her I could see hints of the 1930’s Hollywood beauty in her mannerisms: regal, willful, and independent. I saw her as a truly remarkable woman.
With a sigh of resignation I moved back into the patch to help and without realizing what happened I fell under the spell. I will never know whether it was grandma herself, our laughter, the stained fingers, or the sweet juicy fruit coating my taste buds but the hours passed as stolen moments of time shared between us. These are moments that make sweet memories now that she is gone.
By Shari Marshall