Blessings of the Heart 101 My Grandparents

    

How does one describe what is true? How does one show gratitude for a blessing so incredible? 

    How does one describe what is true? How does one show gratitude for a blessing so incredible?

    I have told before that I grew up here in this house, on this dead end, narrow dirt road in a rural part of the county. Over the course of time it has become less rural and more crowded as houses are build and people move in around us. Very little, however,  has changed on this road. The artistic side of me, that beats in my heart and flows through my veins wants to share the simple beauty that is this place. No great and grand vistas, no sweeping fields of grass and grains, no grizzles or moose, but a place that is special just as it is.

   When my brothers and I were growing up our grandparents lived next door. Less that the distance of a football field away. I don't know that there were any problems for my parents with them living so close, but I do know that we were given a great gift in their being there. With both of our parents working and dad actually out of town most times, mom would make sure we were up and our Grandmother would come up, stay with us  and make sure we caught the bus. I will forever remember her sitting at that window watching for that big yellow machine to go down the road. We had just a few minutes to get up the road and wait its return. This yellow beast would take us from our dirt road to the real world, crowded with people who had little to no idea of a place I thought so special. Town life to me was a curiosity, something to visit and enjoy but not linger. The noise and activity was interesting, but nothing to give up my love of freedom and privacy for.

 Our Grandparents were strict but loving. Summers- make that life then- were in retrospect, magical times. This was before video games, before hundreds of channels on television and before computers and cell phones. How did we ever live? We lived outdoors. From daylight to dark, we found life outside. Our family not only encouraged it, it was expected. If we so much as dared to think the word, much less speak it, bored quickly became weeding the flowers or pulling the expired buds from stems. It became harvesting the garden, which of course could easily turn into a game of hide and seek among the corn stalks. Bored long forgotten. We played in the sand, creating majestic kingdoms for the small plastic toys to inhabit. The more elaborate the better. We played in the puddles created by summer showers. The muddy red clay squeezed up between bare toes, the puddles becoming oceans and lakes for leaves, bark and sticks to become boats. Riding bikes at full speed through the middle spraying water to the sides and splattering bare legs with red mud.

   We chased and were chased by snakes. I unknowingly have stood barefoot within inches of a large snake only to find out just how fast one in bare feet could run up a rock strewn hillside. We learned how to 'fish' worms from their hole and destroy the tornado shaped home in the sand of a doodle bug in search of the odd little insect. We caught lightening bugs and June bugs.

Imagination was encouraged and strengthened by our Grandfather who supplied many items to our journey from childhood to adult. These woods became our playground. We fought imaginary battles, created homesteads and discovered wondrous things. We hiked, we rode stick horses, we rode our bikes.

 If the summer heat became too much there was always the hammocks under the big Oaks to stretch out and watch the rare breeze make the leaves above do a slow shuffle.

 Meals were of a simple fare. The kind of cooking that lives in memories. Fresh vegetables from the garden, real hot cocoa on winter days, pinto beans and fried taters. Food prepared in a way that would melt in your mouth and have you nearly begging for more.

 Above all, was the love and respect not only taught but lived.

  My Grandparents are long gone now, but I still hear their voices in my memories, I feel the hugs from my Grandmother and remember the wisdom of my Grandfather. We were kids with the tendencies of the young to create mischief, and except for the time I set the woods on fire, all were minor. Even the fire was caught small before it became something in need of real firefighters. I miss my Grandparents, but they live on within us, helping me to realize the great blessing in my life, that they were.