DEAR GRANDMA
(Original Image by Mom, I think, circa 1983)
Dear Grandma,
It was wonderful to see you over the holidays, though I wished I had timed it better. The 2nd of January, the day of Grandpa’s passing, is a difficult day for all those who loved and cherished him. But I like to think that he was happy we saw each other on such a hallowed day, especially on such a hallowed day, and especially since we haven’t seen each other in years. I wish we had more time to spend than the measly 3 hours managed, but Alex is a handful, and, if given enough time, he would have torn through your wonderful house and broken everything you hold dear in a matter of minutes. I often feel like a matador or a lion tamer, you know what I mean? I’m not sure people get it, but that's alright.
You were just as wonderful and charming as you’ve always been. You managed to look out into the backyard as Alex played. You hugged him as he entered and before he left. That nearly killed me. You complimented my writing, yes, but said you didn’t care for the subject matter. “There’s a way of looking at things,” you told me. And so, I’d like to be positive for a change and mention a few things I’m thankful for.
Family is an easy place to start. Most people I know take it for granted, as if those people will always be there or that the consistency of their love somehow devalues it. It’s not said often enough, but I love you and Mom. Aunt Sarah too. Such a positive force in my life. I’m thankful for Sam, but that comes with a lot of heartache, like if only I were a better brother, he’d be better off. Amanda tells me not to think like that, but it’s hard not to considering how selfish I was in my young adulthood.
I’m thankful for Amanda, of course, and Alex. How I wish I could speak to him like other fathers speak to their children. The tears find me often. But he is so unique, so individualistic, so funny, and so caring. It’s hard to imagine him existing any other way.
Then to the less important things. Career, check. Money, check. A sweet downtown apartment on the top floor with vaulted ceilings, check. All decent. And the lease on the apartment is a friggin steal since we moved in just before the stadium was finished. I’m thankful for poetry. Thankful for literature. Thankful for the sound these typer keys make, the way they echo in the dark, empty living room like God tip-toeing past the moon. I’m thankful for books, truly good books, and I’m thankful for the time to read them. Ha ha ha. I’m thankful for good food. Amanda and I are getting into homemade soup. We made something called Zuppo Toscana, which includes bacon, ground sausage, potatoes, coconut cream, chicken stock, and spinach. It takes a while to cook, but it is so good. It warms the soul at the end of a cold day.
I’m also thankful for fine wine. Ha. Don’t worry too much though. I’ve cut way down. I kind of have to given the fast-paced nature of life at the moment. But I’m especially thankful we took the time to come down and see you. I promise it won’t take years for our next visit. Most likely when things warm up a bit, and I’m able to show off my barbecuing skills. Anyway, I consider myself a lucky man in spite of the pain of everyday living. And that’s something like maturity, isn’t it?
