You and me. This past year when I’ve looked at your face I’ve seen mine. Not mine now, but mine then. Chipmunk cheeks, a gap-toothed grin, freckles sprinkled across a button nose. It’s strange and amazing to look at the kid you never saw in the mirror.
Heaven knew we needed each other.
In the 1980’s and the here and now.
This is a story, a tribute, a mini-memoir, of my relationship with grandma who spent the last year of her life mentoring me.
I know. You are rolling your eyes at “Instead of Coffee” Green Smoothie. I would be too. Except that I drink this green juice (as I call it), these days, instead of coffee. It’s the closest quick hit of drinkable energy that I’ve found.
I stopped drinking coffee because . . .
Most days I spill words, like I do my coffee, burning, aromatic, luke-warm, sometimes stale, straight into my white, hard covered, journal with my inky black pen. I write what I feel and what I feel might overtake me, maybe already has, and mostly how hope wraps itself around me like my favorite blanket tucked tight like a burrito. All year long, I pour out my thoughts like a kettle who’s water is screeching ready. If I don’t pour . . . .
image / Elisabeth Heier
I’ve never been one to cheat on Thanksgiving. It’s always felt at bit two-timey, to me, to put a tree up before that thankful Thursday. Everything, feels so rushed in this round globe we are spinning around on. It can never just be one thing at time. And, that goes for holidays too, I suppose. This year, I can’t wait for Christmas. So much so, that I think I might have it in me to cheat on Thanksgiving this year. The true confession is that . . .