Grandmother..

I could've sworn I woke to sound of your voice this morning. I had been dreaming about spending the night at your house and had left in the midst of your evening prayer. Thanking God for his generous blessings and pleading for the welfare of your loved ones. I could almost feel the warmth of your baby blue electric blanket around my shoulders as my dream disappated.

I smelled your perfume today when I was at the grocery store. I must have spent the next five minutes searching for the source of the smell, coming up disappointed as it left just as suddenly as it had appeared. Tea Rose, a smell I will never forget. How long had that been your scent? As long as I could remember, I had been surrounded with it's comfort when in your company.

Looking back on the years, I can't help but wonder how things would have been had you been here with me. Would the mistakes I'd made have been easier to resist? Would I have been a stronger young woman, stand up for myself and my beliefs? Or, would I have turned away, in the direction of so many of my peers?

I wasn't ready for you to go, but who was? There's no doubt in my mind that you were ready. You'd lived your life in such a way that you were ready at any time. Patience, long-suffering, charity, one of the sweetest spirits ever to grace this world. I daresay we were undeserving of your light in our lives.

I know you are saving a place for us, and so I pray each and every day that we will live up to the potential you see in us. The potential that our Father knows we are capable of.

I'm not ready to go, but thanks to the time I spent in your loving arms, I'm that much closer to you..


At dinner today, I had a roll that looked (and tasted) exactly like the kind she used to serve at her house. Store-bought with the flour on top. At a Chinese-American restaurant named T-Bone. I always seem to remember her when I need her the most. Is that her way of encouraging me to move on and to be better? I like to think so.

some writing (creative non-fiction)

It's 8:30am and I wake to find that she has already gotten up to begin her morning routine. As I sneak up the stairs, I can hear the faint whisper of her reverent, consistent prayer from the kitchen. When I'm sure I won't disturb her, I slip out from behind the soft couch and wait for her to notice I'm awake. With her sing-song voice, she wishes me a good morning and kisses me softly on my forehead.
I run my fingers through my long matted hair and remember that I had fallen asleep with it damp the night before. Normally, I would ask her to brush it for me - it was too long for my short arms now - but arthritis now made it too painful for her.
Smelling the familiar eggs and toast, I shuffle into the kitchen. I glance at her scriptures as I make my way to my stool, noting that she made it from 2nd Nephi to Enos since the last weekend I had spent with her two weeks previous. I don't understand how she can read so fast! I can't read more than a chapter without nodding off...
"How dark do you want your toast? Did you want some scrambled and one with yoke for dipping?"
"Umm, not too dark. And good idea!" I pour the orange juice and chuckle to myself. She always knows what I want. Why doesn't she ever have real milk, not just powdered?
I take a sip and ask, "Grandma, why don't you ever have real milk?"
"I can't digest it anymore, so I have the powdered kind and I can get the vitamins without the tummy-ache," she smiles as she slides the warm eggs in front of me. "Do you want to eat these in the other room with your lap-tray? Go turn on your cartoons and I'll get one down for you, dear."