Dear Elli,
We put up our Christmas tree today. We have tons of cool ornaments, and you wanted to know all about them. It's been a tradition in our family to buy a new ornament every year, preferably one with the year marked on it somewhere. Your Grandma Becky buys those for us, and this year marks our 15th ornament.
In addition to our ornaments, we have one for every year since your Aunt Jenny passed away, to honor her memory. This year will be the 12th of those.
But of all the ornaments we put on the tree, you were most interested in the ones that my Grandma Patt made. They are all little ceramic things that she hand painted and signed.
You wanted to know all about my Grandma Patt. So I told you. I don't think about her as often as I used to, but the memories came flooding back. And I told you many of the things I remember about her. So I'm going to write them down for you now, too. Because it's important for you to know where you came from.
Grandma Patt was a great lady. We spent a ton of time together. It seems that at least half of my childhood memories involve her.
She used to sit on the bed next to me and tell me stories before I went to sleep. She would make them up sometimes. But the best stories were real. She would tell me about things that she did when she was young. She would have me giggling so hard that tears would run down my cheeks and I'd get the hiccups.
She is the woman responsible for my love of reading. And writing. She said that the more I read, the smarter I'd get. She loved a good thriller. By the time I was nine, she was passing down her Stephen King novels to me. When people questioned whether Stephen King was appropriate for a nine year old, she told them that if I could read it, then I should read it. That alone made her the coolest grandma on the planet.
She loved to fix my hair. She would spend an hour with me in front of her, brushing and braiding my hair. Those are some of my most peaceful childhood memories.
She helped teach me to ride my bike without training wheels. I still remember her running down the street with her hand on my bike seat. I thought it was hilarious then, and I still do.
She was adamant that I would go to college and make something of myself. She said I was too smart to let my brain go to waste. She said she thought I would be a writer one day.
She loved to paint. And she grew the most beautiful gardens every year. She loved to bake cookies at Christmas, and we still use her sugar cookie recipe today. Her house was immaculate, and she would freak out if you put finger prints on her coffee table.
She called me Jenny Wren. I don't know why, but I liked it. She loved to shop, and I was often the beneficiary of her expeditions. I remember riding in her Buick to the mall. She always had a Buick. Except for the time she had a white Bronco. Just like OJ Simpson.
From her living room, I watched the Berlin Wall come down. She said it was one of the most historically important things I'd ever see. From her living room, I also watched OJ Simpson and his slow speed chase. That man's murder trial captivated her for months, and that was about the time she thought I should consider law school. I think I was eight years old at the time.
She dreamed big for me, and encouraged me to do the same for myself. She said I could do anything if I worked hard enough. She said I was smart. And beautiful. And funny. And amazing. She said that having me as her grandaughter was like having a second shot at parenting. Another shot to right her wrongs, with none of the yelling or fighting or stress that comes along with being a parent.
She did that. Whatever wrongs she thought she needed to right. She righted them. She was the best grandma ever, and I owe a lot to her.
She passed away when I was fourteen. She was only 62. It was December 4th of 1996. It is one of those days I'll never forget. Your Grandpa Larry told me when he picked me up from freshman basketball practice.
I miss her a lot. I wonder what she would say about me today. If she'd be happy with the way I turned out. I hope so. I sure love her a lot. And you're lucky to be a part of her. We both are.
I love you.
Mom
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