Airplanes and Boxes and Relatives, Oh My

It has been a busy day here in Florida, celebrating, in some way, the 98 years my grandmother lived and sharing stories with (well, mostly hearing stories from) people who loved her too.  We are a small group, some of whom I've never met before today, yet I am struck by how, because of my grandmother, we are connected.  They know stories I don't, they see family resemblances I can't, and I realize that I have just acquired a new set of connections.

I have also acquired a new set of stuff.  While I saw my grandmother far less than I should have, I knew her for so long, that all sorts of things in her apartment brought up memories--not sad ones, really, but memories of grandparents who drove from Florida to Virginia when I was young and brought their valises (translation, suitcases).  I am now the proud owner of two valises.  Memories of fruit put on clear glass plates on a clear glass table.  I am now the proud owner of clear glass fruit plates.  Memories of paintings I saw every time we visited.  Yep, proud owner of paintings.  Oh, and something I didn't really remember--practically a whole drawer full of videos and pictures of my kids.  I guess I wasn't quite as a delinquent an adult grandchild as I thought.

So after a whole lot of stories and a whole lot of time at the box-mailing store, I am heading home, old valises in my hand, new old stories in my head, new connections in my heart.

Thanks, Grandma.