Little Grandmother

My Grandmother Prophitt was one of my most favorite people in the world. She was not even 5' tall.....that is why we all called her little Grandmother. All the grandchildren were taller than she was....by the time we were 9. She was a fiery little lady....with the best smile and the biggest hugs. She worked the second shift at Avondale Mills where she wound cotton for many years. I remember lying in the bed at night in her Mill Village home, waiting for the mill whistle to blow and my grandmother to come walking in the door of her house. I can smell Avon products today, especially Skin So Soft, and be taken back to the days of my childhood. My grandmother loved Avon. We all have grandparents....it is a fact of life....some are better than others....some we love with all our hearts....some we tolerate....some we are afraid of. I was fortunate enough to have one grandmother during my life time that I adored. To those of you who read this....I hope it tickles a warm fuzzy memory for you too....and you start Easter week....smiling. Grandmother....this one is for you.

Grandma's Life Seasons

by Leigh Granville-Claymore

It was the spring when she began her journey towards winter.

Young, fragile, innocent

peeking her unknowing face into the world of being.

She became....a tiny, beautiful, fragrant flower.

In the summer of her life she grew like the rows of

weeds and vegetables found in any farmer's garden.

She produced the fruits of her labors,

but oftentimes because of insufficient tending,

her life vines came up with only a dried-up

remnant of what would have been.

Life was as hard then as the July heat.

Relentless...Unfeeling.

As she neared the fall of her life she found

herself weary.

She looked forward to sheeding the unnecessary

in preparation for her winter's rest.

She had bloomed and grown and it was not

time to ungrow.

Time to just sit back and relax.

It is taking it easy time.

Take it easy she did. She had earned this.

The winter came on quickly, as winter often does.

The whiteness of her hair matched

the starkness of the ground.

Inseparable in contrast.

The hard lines in her face resembled the

dormant oaks in her front yeard; brittle, hard.

Winter - a time to sleep,

a time of peace.

Spring would be here soon and the life

season would begin for another...

and then another....

and finally me.

Peace to you all. Have a blessed day!