Generations

Her size 11 oxfords were never going to swap places with my size 8 peep toes.  Then again, it didn’t really matter.  She wasn’t one to wear high heels and I wasn’t one to wear sensible.   And just as I knew that Cab Calloway and Lawrence Welk would never be singing duets, I was also fairly certain that my nights spent dancing at the Star Dust were never going to rub elbows with her mornings spent at Loraine’s house, drinking coffee and eating cake. 

But we could agree on hyacinths. 

Her garden was wild with them-their little beaded heads adding cheerful dots of purple, blooming a bridge between winter and spring.  

How I miss my grandmother.

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2 thoughts on “Generations

  1. Oh wow…what a touching short. You captured so much. I could see the grandmother as well as the granddaughter in my mind, but I see them in the garden, admiring the hyacinths, both with smiles of delight on their faces.

  2. Val, I’m combing back through the last two weeks or so, and I had to stop to say that the grandmother I never knew loved hyacinths, and I’ve had a fondness for them my whole life. The smell and the showy purple, love!

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