The really odd thing is that for the past twelve years it has sat on my bookshelf, something I was aware of but never stopped to really notice. That is, until the Wednesday before her passing. I was driving home one day and thought of the picture and questioned whether or not it truly belonged to me, if I was something I was supposed to hang on to or not. So I called my mom and explained all this to her. My mom said that Grandmom Maxine gave it to me and that she always considered me one of her own so it was exactly where it should be.
That Sunday she was gone.
This tiny little picture frame has suddenly become so much more to me. It holds the memories and the life of a woman that I cared so much about. It's no longer a little trinket on my bookshelf, its my reminder that I was blessed to be a part of such an amazing woman's life, someone I'll never forget.
I'll never forget her smile, the way she said "oh Pickle" when I said something she found amusing, her laugh, her mistakes, her perfections....her. When I pass by the picture I stop every time.
It's my little connection to her.
