Memories of Grandma
This week is for Grandma Shirley. Recently, my Aunt Linda
has been asking for memories of my grandma so she could put them together in a
book for her. I thought I would contribute by adding of few of my memories with
gram right here on my blog.
My sister and I are the youngest grandchildren on my mom’s
side so we know grandma in her “older” years. My mom is always telling the most
incredible stories of her, and telling us how much she wishes we knew her when
she was growing up, with her as her mom. But to me, my grandma has always been
one of the most incredible ladies and a huge inspiration to me.
I have lots of little memories that always make me smile
when ever I think back to them. Memories that perhaps are only significant to
me, but their memories that I think are worth writing down regardless. I
remember being five or six when I would stand next to her on a chair in her
cute kitchen in Highland, Utah,
filled with fake food and modern art, rolling out the most delicious home made
rolls. I always rolled mine in little tiny balls so I could feed them to my American
girl dolls, who are always dressed in their best clothes sown by grandma. I
remember when she would tuck me in bed after a tea party and tickle my arm
while she told my stories of Squeaky the mouse. I remember it was during one of
those famous tea parties that I was with my older cousin Kenzi, when a garden
snake slithered through the sliding glass door that we had left open juuust a crack.
What I really remember is that grandma HATES
snakes. But before long we gathered together each and every neighborhood kid
and soon enough the snake rode home with a brave little girl on her bike…and eventually
grandma came back inside. I remember when I would sit down at her beautiful,
black, baby grand piano in her St. George house and try my hardest to pound out
the notes of Beauty and the Beast. After a few rough run-throughs she would sit
down to help me, and then invite my grandpa and my parents to sit on the couch
to hear me play and sing along to my newly perfected song. I remember long days
and late nights as a little girl spent in grandma’s cozy Bear
Lake cabin. Some of my fondest
memories are at that beautiful lake. My eighty year old grandma would give me
lift down to the lake on her 4-wheeler and as I plunged into the refreshing
lake, she would strap a life jacked over her hot pink swim suit so she could “go
for little run on the jet ski”. I could go on for hours about that Grandma
Shirley and all the moments, big and small, that I have spent with her, but for
now, I’ll end with my most favorite memory of my grandma. This is the memory
that will remind me to shoot for the stars for the rest of my life.
It was about a year ago. Grandma started going a little more
down hill. She was in her assisted living home and we were there for my Grandpa
Milts funeral. Her memory had begun to fade and I found it much more difficult
to carry on a conversation with her- until I started talking about the stage.
Performing is what my grandma and I share. She was a star when she was younger
and even when she was a mother. She had the voice of an angel and loved the
arts whether she was watching them or participating in them. Just like me. I
told her that I had an audition coming up at my school for my very first
musical, the same musical that my aunt, who passed away from cancer before I was
born, played a main role in when she was in college at BYU. “Grandma” I said, “my
school is holding auditions for Bye, Bye Birdie, and I want the lead.” I know
it seams silly, but I will never forget the glow in my grandma’s eyes when I told
her. After that, we had a topic to talk about for days. She couldn’t stop reminiscing
about my Aunt Judy and her own days on the stage. She kept asking me all about
the part I wanted and telling me that I was the best little actress and deserved
it more then anyone. I just smiled because I knew she was just being a grandma.
Leaving grams that visit was really hard. She was alone now with out gramps and
I didn’t know how many more visits with her I would get. I hugged her quick and
turned around fast to keep from crying. She quickly grabbed my hand and pulled
me real close to her as she whispered in my ear- “Go get that part.” A simple statement,
maybe meaningless, but something about hearing those words from her hit me. She
made me believe in my self because she believed in me. I didn’t want that lead
part just for me anymore, I wanted it for her, because she knew how badly I wanted
it, and had worked for it. Suddenly I felt like I could do anything I set my
mind to because I have people who believe in my and want me to succeed. This
might not make sense to any one else reading this, but really, I just wanted to
let my grandma know that she helped me realize I can be a star. I know that I deserve
the best. And even though my grandma has never been able to see me perform
live, every song I sing, dance I dance, or play I perform on stage, I see her
right there on the front row, and I will forever. Thank you Grandma Shirley, I
love you.
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January 5, 2013.
Karson, Grandma Shirley, and me at our last visit at her assisted living home in St George .
She will be 91 in April! <3 |
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Karson, My mom Loni, me, and Grams.
We love you Grandma! |
Now, I'm sure your wondering, what is Never Land? You may be thinking that my Never Land is a lot different the the mermaid lagoon, and pirate's cove in Peter Pan's Never Land. I believe Never Land is different for all of us. As described in Steven Spielberg's movie, Hook, "Never Land is the place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming," Never Land is the child with in us.
I still love to go to Never Land. I go to Never Land almost every weekend with my little sister when we snuggle on the couch and giggle at our favorite Disney Channel shows. I went to Never Land about a month ago when i lied on a grassy hill holding hands with my two best friends, Cierra and Kylie, and laughed about absolutely nothing. I went again last week with my entire choir family when we decided, without speaking a word, to forget about our school work, our responsibilities, and even the show we were about to perform, to play in the Park Elementary School cafeteria. We played basket ball, jump roped, and hula hooped like five-year-old's without a care in the world. But as my days slip into years, i hear more and more about "growing up". It is not acceptable any more to just simply forget about school work and responsibilities. I have to worry about more than just the imaginary boiling hot lava beneath my feet. My worries are now about paying for college and deciding on an education that will ultimately decide my future. These big responsibilities make me question if I will ever be allowed to return to Never Land.
