One of my grandmothers-in-law turned ninety-one today. She is still sharp, and sly, and funny, but she’s less inclined to talk. She hurts, deeply. She broke her hip 2 months ago. She lost a daughter to cancer last year.
She misses her husband, four years gone. She misses their home up north – the smell of the pines. She misses hard work – running the store, raising children and grandchildren by his side. And she secretly pines for her first husband, true love – so handsome, so young when he was crushed on the job, their second child yet to be born. That was 1935, a long time – a lifetime – ago.
It’s good to see her smile.