A Christmas Memory
When I was younger I had a storybook. It was given to me on my first Christmas and it was well loved. I remember every page, many covered in the enthusiastic crayon markings of a child. On the inside of the cover was a poem in my grandmother's hand, mused aloud by my grandfather's affections of their very first grandchild. There were many birthday and holiday cards in the same scripted hand with short little ditties by the grandfather who would later pass away when I was just five. I treasured them but my favorite was the first of all. Over the years the cover was torn off and I kept it tucked safe in my memory box. Eventually, through many moves it was lost. But I had long ago penned that verse in my heart.
She can creep and crawl but net yet walk.
She can giggle and coo but not quite talk.
She's fun to be with and have around
She's one of the sweetest-she's happiness bound!
Christmas morn she was up early you see
And there with her toys was Miss Aimee Lee.
In life we often attach memories to an object, a smell, a sound. This is my attempt at maintaining something tangible. It's written down in black and white. And though the book is gone, the memory lives on. My children will read this and know something new. That their mother was loved by her grandparents when she was just a wee little bitty. And this is what it looked like. I remember.