Yellow Notes

I found these notes while packing up my room yesterday.“I’ve been crying when you’re not looking, so you won’t know how upset I am to leave. I’m not sure why, cause I know out of anyone in my life, you two aren’t gonna judge me – not for my thoughts, clothes, weight, or silly bouts of sadness. You’d think with how easily I can be sassy&sily, that expressing those sad moments wouldn’t be so tough. But they are… I’ve been sad for about a year. Ignoring, running, crying when no ones looking. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been happy too, but never as happy as I’ve been these weeks. I’m so glad I got to spend these weeksish with you. I wish I could stop time and stay here with you two without consequence forever. But… real life is unavoidable… and someday, when I get to be a retiree, I’ll appreciate these moments even more.
Grandma, you’ve taught me since I can remember how to love with such a carefree spirit – unconditional love from deep in my heart even when the recipient may not deserve it. And, though frustrating at times, I adore that trait in both of us.
Grandpa, hearing&seeing your reaction to that movie broke my heart. You’re the strongest man I’ve ever known with the biggest heart to hold it together. Anyone honored enough to hear you speak a word should feel lucky. I could never tell you enough how proud I am to claim you as my grandpa…”
I’m not sure how I finished it, but these were notes for a goodbye letter I wrote to my grandparents after camping with them in Florida last winter. I can’t even remember how long I stayed, but it felt like a lifetime of perfection. They rented me a yellow bike so we could ride around in the sunshine. We played cards, watched movies, ate my aunt&uncle’s homemade jam&sausages. We laughed so hard my belly throbbed and my cheeks tired from smiling. We’d seen The King’s Speech and it had impacted both of them so tenderly.
I remember packing up Betty at our campsite in Oscar Scherer State Park and feeling the biggest lump of sadness welling up in my throat – I knew how special our moments had been – how rare&pristine. Not every grandchild can share the bonds I’ve come to rely on – not every grandchild can be as lucky as me. My grandpa recoded my giggle on his cellphone – trying to remain big&strong, he’d quietly told grandma how much he’d miss it while I stood outside the camper. His sweet, little words made my heart ache to leave. I meant every word I said in that letter and I’d go back to those moments in a heartbeat if allowed.

Winter Cards

Last night was the last dinner&cards night with grandma&grandpa until they return home in the spring. Every year they head south for the winter. Every year I hate it. Last year I was able to stay a couple of weeks with them in a campground on Florida’s gulf coast. This year I’ll have to settle for missing them.
It never ceases to amaze me: the amount of comfort I find in their presence. Last night, I sat snuggled on the floor in a blanket just watching my grandpa watch the Fiesta Bowl – thinking about how healthy he looks a mere 4 months after open heart surgery. I reminisced on the night of grandpa’s surgery when I slid into bed next to grandma for comfort – my mind&heart aching with the stress of her day. In the calm of last night she attempted a word-game on her iPad only to get distracted by an item she’d forgotten to pack. I rejoiced that her stresses can now be as simple as suitcases and listened to my cousin’s giggle at grandpa’s comments on grandma’s endless amounts of luggage. I soaked up their aura&energy as long as I could before falling asleep on the couch.
I don’t mind that they all kicked my butt in cards last night or that the meal we devoured wasn’t exactly what I’d craved – I'd lose a million games of 13 and eat bbq pizza till my taste buds dissolved if it meant my night could be spent near them.
I feel that I most definitely have the most amazing grandparents this world has to offer and I’ll be anxiously awaiting their return this spring.

Back In Action

I’m not a competitive person – mostly because I hate to mess anything up and I hate to lose – and while growing up in a competitive family, laying low was easier. Thus, I don’t compete. No competition – no failure… right?

Since moving back near my family, though, my grandparents & cousin have conned me into an addiction to the card game “13.”

Lucky for me: I’m on a winning streak.

Last night was the first game back since grandpa’s open-heart surgery. I itched for his evil snicker at a good hand and ached for his backhanded congratulations during every moment he endured in the hospital. And, though I still kicked his butt, I kept the excitement to a minimum.

Obviously, its not about the card game or who wins, loses, or throws the biggest fit. But – like I said – lucky for me: I’m on a winning streak.