Growing up my grandfather shared many stories about his parents. Quickly I fell in love with them, and I think it’s safe to say so did my brother Mike. We were the youngest kids in our family and those stories we heard were better than TV. And not just because our TV was miniscule and only got 2-3 channels depending on the weather.
As we grew older we inherited the contents of their lives. I know my great grandmothers handwriting like that of a familiar dear friend. And though I never met her I just know her. Do you know what I mean?
I had a small box of cards from her older years. There were stacks of cards all neatly bundled and tied with the year tagged on each. She labeled everything, maybe knowing that someday someone would be looking at each one with appreciation. Did she know it was me?
I laughed out loud when I saw she put a special index card where 1954 should have been to let whomever know that year she used her cards to make gift tags. It’s a good thing as I would have been up all night wondering where all the cards from 1954 were!