Nona

She stood tall at a little more than four feet.
She was the grandma I always wanted.
The one who baked cookies every holiday.
Who had sandwiches ready every time you stopped by.
She was the one who taught me what it was to give all of myself to my family.
She was a dream I had so many years when my grandma would forget my birthday.
When my grandma told me we couldn’t visit anymore without any real explanation.
She was a vision of a woman I never knew.
A figment of a child’s overactive imagination.
A hope that one day I would have her in my life.
A little old lady with white curly hair who would kiss me hello every time she saw me.
She would feed me when I was hungry and give me a sweater when I was cold.
We would have holidays together and laugh and talk about the family.
In my world, she didn’t exist.
But I knew she was out there.
About 23 years ago, I started dating her grandson.
We married and, I became her granddaughter and a part of her world.
I would watch her stand strong every day.
And her family would tell me of the heartache she went through in her life and I would admire her more.
I watched her chase the chickens back into the coop with a broom.
I watched her hold my daughter and smile the whole time the camcorder was running waiting for the flash.
I was there the day she slapped my husband so hard in the head for not visiting enough.
And even though we visited more it still wasn’t enough.
I would hear stories of how she would wake up at four in the morning to pray for the world and could only wish that I could have that kind of commitment to prayer.
She was an amazing woman and for 10 years she was my grandma.

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