Remembering . . .

She would usually be outside watering the flowers in the morning or late afternoon when I drove past on my way home from a tiring day at work. Sometimes she would be in her garden in the hot sun with her hat on just a workin' a way, harder than any 86-year-old should be working. Her garden became smaller each year as she got older and slower and unable to care for it. I would blow my horn, she would wave and I would feel blessed to know my Granny was there, somewhere about the house or yard. I still look for her and I wonder how long I will do that, when do I stop looking for her little gray head through the window? My Granny Mae has been gone for almost a month now and there's not a day that goes by that I don't miss her. It's funny how the mind plays tricks on us. I could've sworn I saw her in the garden just the other day with the hoe in one hand and waving with the other. I know it's habit and there will be a day when I probably just drive by without looking and searching, but for now I'm remembering . . .

"Grandma always made you feel she had been waiting to see just you all day and now the day was complete."