Dear Punkin Seed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Glory Be!!!  I must say I was surprised to get your letter.

 

 

 

Time goes by here, and yet we don't sense its passing as you do.

 

 

 

Days flow together in a never ending time zone.

 

 

There is much to keep us occupied, much pleasurable work to do.

 

 

 

 

 

And so, when your letter arrived, my heart skipped a beat

 

 

and then gave me quite a start.

 

(I remember how your mom called you her little "punkin seed")

 

 

I was very sick when you were born.  It was a sad, painful time.

 

 

Your birth that August evening gave all of us

 

 

a pause  for rejoicing.

 

 

A week later when your mother came home from the hospital

 

 

she laid you in my arms.  A warm solid bundle you were, fair skinned with

 

 

lots of dark hair.  I could sense even then, that you might grow

 

 

to look like me with blue eyes, distinct dark brows, hands that took pleasure

 

 

in creating things.

 

 

 

 

 

I saw you and held you several more times before I came here.

 

 

You were three months old by then.

 

 

 

 

We don't experience regret here, not the way you do where you are.

 

 

But in my heart was a sadness that I had to leave you

 

 

since you had just arrived.

 

 

 

But here you are, on the page of your letter, talking to me,

 

 

asking questions.

 

 

Is that good or bad?  I'll admit, it is rather frightening.  And you're right

 

about it being personal.

 

 

That sounds strange, I know, considering how things are talked about

 

 

in your world today.  Everything is out in the open.


  Not so when I was a young woman,

 

 

 although I suspect you don't think that 39 is such a young age

 

 

to be getting married.  You'd be right, I suppose.

 

 

 

Things don't always work out the way we dream them.

 

 

You know that.

 

 

To tell you the story about how your Grandpa George and I met

 

 

and got married will take some thought.

 

 

I haven't forgotten.  Not one detail.  But to relive that in my heart and mind

 

 

will take some doing.

 

 

 

So be patient, little one.

 

 

 

Love,

 

 

Grammy

 

 

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