Essay, Grandmother, Wisdom
When Nannie Spoke, Even the Bunnies Harkened, Gathering to Eat from the Palms of Her Hands
Years Later and I Still Hear you; Oh, Georgia, Gone but not forgotten
Why do dated words intrigue me? Recalling early childhood memories, time, or perhaps I should say, restoring time, means being back at my grandparent's home where nature fearlessly spoke her simple truth. The only voice more inspiring and all-knowing came from a woman who called herself Georgia. Days of yesteryear still live on inside me commanding my attention.
Three-year-old-me was excited to meet my grandparents for the first time. Running with open arms to the man with the lumberjack shirt and bright red suspenders, my grandmother chuckled as I blurted out a bold "Hello, my darling" to my grandfather. Indeed, a big expression of emotion from the little girl with golden pigtails, this first encounter became a story told time and time again by the woman who I called Nannie.
Growing up in a British/American household, my mum taught me that Nannie was the proper term for grandmother.
Settling into the vacant side of my grandparent’s two family home, my parents, baby sister, and I had just relocated from Virginia Beach, my father’s…
