She won't be here forever.
She slowly climbs out of my car and wraps her lovely, aging hands around my arm. We walk, gingerly, in the rain, up to the store. It's Christmastime and the store is trimmed with garland and white twinkly lights. Once inside, we wander its wares, searching for the perfect gift.
It takes time to see all the store has to offer. She didn't want to miss a thing. She buys some treasures for loved ones and we return to her "chariot".
I spend the day with her, escorting her from store to store. The weather is gross — gray and rainy. But I don't care.
We share conversation over lunch, reminiscing the past — her past. And after a few hours, we journey home.
She thanks me for my help and we carry our shopping efforts into the dry, warm house.
I receive her thanks, but the whole time I wanted to thank her. While she searched for the perfect gift she was already giving me mine — time with her.
She will turn ninety in January. Today, I just soaked her in.
Hands that served me for as long as I can remember. Her caring smile. And a beautiful, happy laugh that is so contagious. There's always been so much laughter.
Although she's short in stature, I have always looked up to her. The way she cares for people. Sit her next to a stranger and she'll know their whole life story in a matter of minutes. She has always been a loyal friend and caretaker of others — and to me.
Never once have I doubted her love or support.
This is the love of a Grandmother — my Mommom. So full of love and generous in spirit.
She won't be here forever. I try to remember this. I try to enjoy and appreciate the woman she has always been to me. A special and intricate part of my life — a piece of my heart. A legacy of faith and love.
A precious gift.