I’ve been thinking about my family a lot these past few days. As a younger person who’s probably really supposed to be 85, my idea of an evening well spent involves a decaf coffee, PBS documentaries, and hand stitching anything while a cute kitty snuggles on my lap. Also there are quilts and giant sweatshirts involved. How Rob can resist me like this is unbelievable! That image now also involves me spending my free time on Ancestry.com, researching my mother’s side of the family. It’s been incredible to see the original census forms from the 1800’s with my great-great-grandparent’s handwriting on them.
On my father’s side of the family, we know the family history. My Aunt Linda and Grandma have done an incredible amount of work to find out who we are and where we came from. With that in mind, a few Christmases ago I made my Grandma a family tree quilt. I brought it back home with me this past winter to add a few additional names and blank leaves to it when some new family members were born.
There are so many things I’ve learned from my family, and my Grandma in particular. Like a few weeks ago when I was cutting dough to make Cornish pasties, I realized that I’ve never used a biscuit cutter. I only cut dough with a drinking glass, like she does.
And that if I really try to write well, my handwriting can look just like hers.
And that the reason I always choose to take home dahlias from the farmer’s market is because that’s what she used to grow. Just don’t watch me buy them. I’m usually trying not to cry, and I’m not quite sure why it gets me so worked up.
I guess all of this research has made me miss my Grandma and my family a little bit more. Because the other day before the rain started to pour, it felt like a spring afternoon at my Grandma’s house. I can’t totally describe to you what that means, but I think my family would know.