I forgot to mention something so deep that she gave me before she left. During our talks about life, we were walking around my neighborhood. It was very hot last summer, hence the name the name "HOT-lanta" is given to "Atlanta," the nearest major city (about 30 miles west of where I live). We were both sweating, but that didn't stop over conversations. Perhaps the things we were talking about were so intense, that it caused us both to sweat. I know weather was a factor too. The weather was overwhelming but there was a slight breeze and the sky started to change colors and eventually begin to set.
We were just talking endlessly about everything that came across our minds. I sat there intrigued by her strength because the stories that she told me were really emotional. The scale of her emotions ranged from stability to tears flowing down her make up filled, wrinkled face. My grandma was the one who I lived with the majority of my child hood, and she was always there for me whenever grandpa would come and yell at me for mistakes I did throughout my childhood. Mistakes ranged from little stupid things like forgetting to turn off the light or mixing up entertainment and school work. No, I wasn't allowed to have fun and watch t.v. at the same time because grandpa would always have a sense that I was gonna do something wrong. He always caught me doing something bad. It's like he was always there when I was bad. (Well, I guess part of it was because I was very clumsy back then. I was one of those kids that would still have the urge to "press the red shiny button" even if I was told not to, haha.) The moment I turned on the tv and did my 4th grade homework, which consisted of practicing cursive, he would come marching down the hallway and into the living room. And then the rest is history, I would get yelled at by grandpa and he would drag me into his room where I would get spanked. And then came grandma on times like these, if she wasn't at work, she always come to the rescue kinda like Superman, but instead Supergrandma. If she didn't come to me when I got spanked, I would always find my way to her. I came to her whenever I got a hard spank with that wooden branch that grandpa found in the backyard or that belt. Basically, she was always there to comfort me. She has always remained sweet her entire life and wouldn't be the one to "hit" her own children because of something they did wrong. The most she would do is probably just lecture the wrongful action. I've seen so many arguments between grandpa and grandma and not once did I see her cry. Until that day she came to visit. I got to see a side of her I never really saw.. tears.. for the first time in my entire life. I saw my grandma cry. I didn't know how to react because I was stunned and frozen. It was like time stopped.. She was so strong, but the topics that we were discussing hit her really hard in the gut that tears just started flowing like rivers of rainfall. She told me how she felt when she found out when my grandpa had cheated on her with woman more than half her age, and told me the history behind my mom and my dad (which previously my extended family never bothered to tell me.) At first it seemed like the gignatic and enormous pieces of a mixed puzzle were given to me on a huge plate. It was overwhelming to absorb so much information about my dad and mom, and how she felt during the divorce, and also let alone handle the emotions that were running through both of us.
We went back inside because the mosquitoes were coming out to invade us. I remember glancing slightly at her to see if she was still crying, and there wasn't any more tears there. She looked normal again, but I knew that was an act that she put up. Because there were people home and around, I guess she knew she needed to stop crying to avoid confrontation. We both went upstairs, and signs of old age were apparent. She held onto the railing and slowly made her way up the stairs - something that I never seen her do before. As I think back to her approach upstairs, I'm reminded of the strict sense that "nothing is forever.." Typical cliche "life" phrases line my thoughts as I think back to that time she was able to carry me with her own two hands, and now that I'm grown up I envision an older version of grandma. (This reminds me of David, from A.I. and his quest to find his mommy. A.I. is one of the movies that is able to touch my heart.. and I can't get enough of it because it always seems to open the gateway of tears within my eyes.)
We made our way into the room and there she sat. She began getting her luggage and she then put it on the bed. She then mentioned a scarf.. just a simple scarf right? No.. it wasn't "just a scarf," it was something that represented so many things to me.. there's a history behind it.
The scarf came across my mind when I needed a "favorite object," to bring to class for an assignment. Today is the day that I will be taking this scarf for my descriptive writing assignment in English... stay tuned as more will be posted regarding this.
Anthony
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