Our family didn't get our act together to send Christmas cards this year, so I decided to send a real letter to you instead.
Life has changed since Nick went off to college (he's studying engineering like his Grandpa Roy) and we haven't been on any life-altering vacations, so if I wrote a year-in-review letter, you'd either put it down or laugh at all our bodily foibles. Don't worry. We're basically healthy except for the gas.
I'm sorry to hear that Brenda is in a nursing home. I still imagine her laughing out loud at something you said. I love that enthusiastic sound. You know, my happiest memories of being a child were in Grandma Millie’s house when you two would stop by. We were usually eating and the food was so good. Sometimes, I make gravy just to make my house smell like Grandma's. All of you laughed and talked about everything under the sun. I wish I remembered more of those stories. These days, I can almost conjure the sound of Grandma's voice. She never sat in one place very long unless she was telling a story.
"Let's go see about the yard." Do you remember her saying that before we'd go look at what she and Grandpa grew in their yard? The corn came from him and the dahlias came from her. By the time we wandered back in, she carried dinner in her apron.
Do you still wear an apron? I only do when it's going to be messy. And I don't grow much either. I have mostly volunteer Western red cedars and moss in my pots this time of year. I usually grow some greens and bright annuals to brighten up my deck though.
Do you remember the stories Grandma used to tell from the front porch as we rocked in chairs or banged the window by swinging the porch swing too high?
Sometimes, it surprises me how much life has changed since then, how busy people have become, and how reluctant to listen to a whole story. I hope you aren't stuck in that busy, busy mode and that people stop and listen to your stories when you tell them.
I miss the sound of Grandma's screen door and cicadas. I miss that people stopped by for a bit. Sometimes, they just stopped their cars right on the road and leaned out to talk for just a minute. That's how most clearly I remember Bobby. I miss pumping up water from the well in their yard. I miss beefsteak tomatoes and persimmon pudding. And I miss you too.
Give my love to Brenda.
Thank you for listening, jules