Memories of a Beautiful lady

     I often find myself reflecting on the past, my past, my history. I think of all the things that made me, me. Visions float past of all that I have done and said. I recall things I have heard that have made an impression in my mind. Some beatuiful memories of a taste or a smell. Many of my memories are less than favorable but they are unique to me and are mine alone.
    Today I have been reflecting on one of my most cherished and beautiful memories, my grandmother , Mamaw. It is impossible to measure love. There are many a song and poem that attempt to define and measure love. I cannot say that love can truly be defined or measured by words. I can say that I have , do ,
and will always love my Mamaw very, very, much.
   I would like to share some of my memories of this wonderful, beautiful lady. These are memories that make me happy and sad all at the same time. Funny things,,feelings. How can a memory bring us from one side of the spectrum and to the other in a second? But that is what many memories can do,
   I can remember  laying in the bed in the back room of her house. I awake to the wonderful smell of breakfast. I can hear my Mamaw clattering pans about in the kitchen. I hear the birds making a fuss in the morning sun. Through all this I hear a sudden "Shit Fire" come from the direction of the kitchen. This was the only curse word I ever heard her say.(not the first time though).
   This made me giggle. She was taking a pan of biscuits out of the oven and her hand had started shaking and shook some of the biscuits out of the pan and onto the floor. This is the day I learned that she had parkinsons.
    I can think of no better place to eat lunch. I would turn down any five star meal, any steak house specialty, any of the finest cusines from around the globe , just to taste her fried potatoes one more time.I have tried many others fried potatoes, including my own, and none can or will ever compare to hers.I dont know what she did to the to make them taste so good,she could have spit in them for all I know. But they were the best.
   I would love to sit once again and listen to her stories of times past, and marvel at the trials and strife she had been though in her life. I remember that she never told these stories with any remorse. It was just the way things were. She would regale me with stories of my aunts and uncles, and my Dad, when they were young.
   Even though she had very little she gave what she did have freely. She would most always have others over for lunch. When times were hard for some of my aunts or uncles she would give all she had to help. I have been witness to this on more than one occasion. I consider her more of an angle than those who have much to give but give little. She had almost nothing and gave it all. What a wonderful world this would be if we were all like her.
    These are just a few of the cherrished memories I have of her. There are many more and maybe I will share them with you some day. I just miss her. I think of her every day. I think of how kind and generous she was. I think of the example of love, charity, and family she has set for so many of us. I am glad and proud that in my life I have met ,loved, and was loved by a true angle. My Mamaw

There is peace in the Valley

   The buzzing of the alarm wakes me at 6 am, sounding like a nuclear launch. Always placing it out of reach I must get up to silence the noise that has disturbed my slumber. Rising from bed Is not a chore for I  have nothing dreadful to do. There is nothing pressing me for my time. I am glad to awake and start a new day. Always looking forward , wondering what there will be in store.
    As I get out of bed I look over to the perfect little being that had been at my side all night. He is my little pardner, my buddy, my heart, my life. How can anythig be more beautiful than he? I think of all the joy he has brought into my life in his five years. I will have to get him up in a short while for school ,but for now I will leave him to his dreams.
     I walk from the bed and into the shower, as I do most every day. I like to let the warm water run for a while. Standing under it letting my thoughts run free. I could not say what I think about, I just relax under the warm shower of water. I get out and do the normal things, shave , brush my teeth, look at my hair. I keep my hair short so I dont need to do more than look at it.
    My coffee is done and waiting for me in the kitchen. I check on Zane, he is still dreaming little boy dreams.
It is time to go over to Mom and Dads. I walk out the door to a chilly mornig. The fresh cool air is wonderful.
Looking out the sun has just started to rise over the mountains. I think how beautiful this truly is. I can feel the warm sun on my face through the cold air. I almost have to squint. I think of how lucky I am to be here right at this moment.
  I cherrish every minute of my mornig coffee ritual with me parents. We talk back and forth with ease almost like old friends. We are comfortable with each other and this makes me happy. I feel I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of. I feel like we can talk about anything,and we often do.
  It is now seven and time to wake Ole Zane. I wake him playing as I always do. I think it important for him to wake up happy. As usual he opens his eyes laughing at whatever I am doing. We play for a few minutes then it is off to the shower. He (most of the time) does not fus or whine. Like me, he to likes to let the water run on him for a while before we get down to the buisness of washing. When he is out and dried I tie the towel around him, he puts on sandals and beats feet over to Grandmas. My mother is an angel to him.And he loves and adores her very much. She will get him dressed(well, she supervises the operation) does his hair, to a point. He likes to spike his hair in the front and is not happy with anyone doing it but himself.
    We get into the car about 7:45 for the short ride to school. Sitting there in his seat he looks so big to me now. And yet sometimes he still looks so little. I pull into the lot at school and we get out. I walk him to the gate and tell him I love him. He says I love you too and darts off to play with the other children.
   I then make my way back home looking forward to what the day will bring.
As I sit here now I think of all the good things in my life. I am happy. And as I look out into the night I think, I have found it. There is peace in the valley