If you know me half well, then you know that I have a fierce love and devotion for My Grandma Polly. In honor of her birthday this week, I wanted to share a part of our recent phone conversation. Mainly, I want to write it out before I forget because it's so special great awesome.
I called to talk about the snow and share our sledding experience. She started telling me about the last time she went sledding. About five years ago, she went out at dark and climbed the hill beside her house and went down two blocks of hills, having the best time. When I laughed and asked more questions, she had the answers.
...no one was with her.
...everyone was trying to stay warm in their house probably watching ole' granny sledding.
...it was the wooden and metal sled in her basement.
...she just went one time.
...really-five years ago.
Like any story she tells me lately, I soak it up. I paint the picture of what's happening in my head, and I try to absorb it. That's what I did here, until I started thinking logically. She's turning 88, so five years ago she was 83. She wears sweaters in the summer because she gets cold. She's still healthy, but she's too fragile for sledding the hills that she's talking about. Then it hit me: this didn't happen. I know she's sled the hills when she's younger, but there is no way that she did this five years ago. This is the first time that this is really happened. She really believes something that didn't happen. Obviously, part of me is sad, because I have to lose her a little bit more now as she slips into older age.
But, part of me can't be too sad when it comes to Grandma Polly. Because if this is her aging and losing it, then it's the best kind of way to lose it. I'll listen all day to your crazy adventures that you're not having in your 80s. I figure that these are my genes and when I get older, I'm going to be telling wild unimaginable tales too. And I think that is marvelous. I'm so proud to be her granddaughter.