The Greenroom

There are plenty of things that I will always remember about mom-mom, things that I associated with her every time that I saw her:

The way that she sat in the corner of a room and tried to be as far away from the center of attention as possible
Her dresses were always the same, never fancy but picture perfect in my mind for what only the best great grandmothers would wear
The way she would laugh when you made a goofy joke that only a grandmother could appreciate
The way that her whiskers would scratch my face when I kissed her hello or goodbye…
Every Christmas she would slip that little white envelope to you with your present in it. (This always meant so much to me because I know how hard she had worked her whole life for every dime her and pop-pop earned)
The way that even if the house was burning down around us it probably wouldn’t have been warm enough

Those are moments that were guaranteed every time that I saw her but some of the most memorable moments were times when she spoke of pop-pop. I don’t have any memories of him and only know him through stories from my parents and a few old black and white pictures of him and his tractor. I knew that their relationship was special though, the kind that you rarely see in our modern society. On a few occasions she would say how he used to do this or used to do that. The content of the stories wasn’t so inspiring as much as the way she spoke of him. There was a love in her voice that I will never forget.

I love you and miss you mom-mom.