Thinking of my Grandma Marie, who would have been 102 years young today. Our lilacs are in full bloom and their sweet scent fills the house as I remember her today. She loved lilacs, and had the most endearing twinkle in her eye as she would light up to greet visitors, calling out their names when she laid her eyes on them in the doorway.
During my visits in the summer, she used to take me with her to meet her friends at the senior morning swim class at the Y. I loved spending lazy summer days admiring her paint brushes and old books in the little basement painting studio by the sliding patio door with a view of the tree line that overlooked the gardens below.
I miss those days, sharing buckets of fried chicken with cousins, siblings, aunts and uncles in my grandparent's house. There was always a game of pitch going on in the kitchen, every chair and seat taken, visitors overflowing onto the deck and out to the squeaky swing set on the lawn below where the kids played. Visitors coming and going, hugs distributed to all and so much anticipation when we'd hear the front door open, followed by footsteps coming down the hardwood floor in the hallway as Grandma Marie's voice would call out to greet the newest visitor. There is no love like hearing her call your name.