Tuesday, September 28, 2010

My Angel


When I was a little girl, I would spend a week with my maternal grandmother in the early summer. (Didn't understand about work vacations back then. Had to do it when Gram was on vacation, too!)

The best part of those times were cutting peonies from the back yard (she had a zillion of them it seamed!) and taking them to the cemetery, for her to put them on her parents graves. We would get a 1lb. coffee can out (back then they were actually metal!) and wrapping it up with "tin" foil to make it look nice. Then we would walk to the corner (almost a mile, I guess) and catch the bus. The bus would stop right in front of Lutheran Cemetery and we would make the walk to the back of the cemetery where her parents were.

On our way, we would pass "my angel". She is a beautifully larger-than-life angel, standing in front of a cross, with her hands outstretched. I fell in love with her then, all those years ago. And I still love her.

Only now, as I look at her, I realize she really isn't an angel. And it's amazing that after all these years, I never really noticed that before. You see, she has no wings...




1 comment:

  1. I would do a work vacation with my grandmother too. I vividly remember beating her rugs with a beater while it hung out on the line.

    I had forgotten all about it till your post.

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