The hint of red that the sun brings out in my hair, I get from her. Although I have never known her to be anything but a silvery-white, she’d tell stories of how the other kids teased her with her bright red hair. She despised it, but I loved it – love it still.
She has always played the piano, and as a very little girl this was magic to me. When I was finally old enough to play an instrument myself, I knew it just had to be the piano. She gave me my first lessons, and I loved it – love it still.
I remember how we’d have girly dates where she taught me how to make silk flowers, or to knit. Or to make greeting cards out of tea bags. She was always crafting one thing or another, and was always eager to teach. And I loved that – love it still.
When I was very young, we lived just a couple of blocks away. Then when I was five, we moved. Not very far, maybe twenty minutes by bike, and we still came over all the time. But recently she confided how sad that move had made her, just when my brothers and I were about the age that we could have walked over by ourselves. She had wished for more quality time spend with us, and I loved it – love it still.
She has been to every house I’ve ever lived in, and has always taken an interest in my life. She looked out for me. My first serious relationship – as all first relationships – was not a very good one. Because he was a Jewish boy though, my three other grandparents were swooning over this ‘man from the Chosen People’ now in their midst. She just remarked that she thought him to be on the spoiled side. I loved it that she had my back – and I love it still.
My nan, she was a presence. She made a lot of her own cloths, and they were always colorful and glittered, or brightly patterned at least. So I won’t wear black to her funeral, but a brightly patterned festive dress instead. I just know that she would love it.
She loved me – and I love her still.
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