Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Asking for stories


My grandmother is visiting for the summer from Argentina.  I'm always asking for stories -- I want to know the most random ones.  We spent the weekend in East Hampton and she told me about my grandfather and how it was when they first met just after World War II -- she was only fourteen and while they were courting she worked in a photography studio and he walked her home every night.   There are so many things I need to know from both sets of grandparents and I want to start writing them down so that my own grandchildren will know them.  I feel a little bit hollow to think that these are things that can be forgotten unless we make it a point to remember them.  I start to think about my own great grandchildren and I hope that I'm lucky enough to meet them and I want them to know about people who they will never meet but who are so important -- people who made me who I am. 

I see Lucia with her great grandmother, my thoughtful and fascinating grandmother, and it makes my heart beat faster.  These are moments that are recorded in my heart and mind forever and even though she won't be able to really remember it, I will work hard to help her.

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