Memories...

I make frequent early morning trips to Sunnysid and while I drive I see folks walking on the path that runs from Prosser. One woman that I often see reminds me so much of my Grandma Bell that sometimes it steals my breath. She doesn't look at all like Grandma; she is much younger and has much nicer clothing than I every saw on her tiny frame. What I see that brings back my Grandma for me is that while the woman walks she carries a bag and as she exercises, she picks up garbage along the way.

My Grandma had high blood pressure and severe diabetes. Her doctors told her that it was important for her to exercise, so she would walk the half mile down Emerald Road to the little country store we called "Perry's Corner". The idea of walking with no purpose must have seemed so impractical to her, so as she walked she pushed a wheelbarrow and picked up trash along the way. If I was staying with her, I went along on her walk. When we reached the little store, I was given a dime for candy. On the trip back to the house, we crossed the road and picked up the trash on the other side.

Growing up poor and having lived through the depression while raising five children, my Grandma never wasted a thing - especially time or effort. Even while watching her beloved "The Edge of Night", her hands were busy snapping beans, cutting up vegetables or peeling fruit for pie, all into a folded newspaper resting in her lap. I think of my leisure time now and am sometimes ashamed when I am not doing something with my hands.

I spent much more time with my Grandad, loving the same things he did. He taught me to ride, to care for my horse, to feed and doctor calves, to judge livestock, the importance of your word, the value of silence, and so much more. I followed him everywhere. He's been gone now for ten years and I miss him so. My strongest pangs though, are of my grandmother. The things I love now came from her. There are few times that I bake a pie, put fruit in the freezer or prepare a new meal that she doesn't come to mind. In fact, I have actually looked for my phone to call her and ask a question. She was always quietly in the background, supporting and caring for us all and left a deep imprint on my soul. I hope she knows how much I love her.

Little lady on the walking path, I am often tempted to stop and tell you of the memories you stir. Sometimes they are so strong, it steals my breath.