While I’m in transition of moving back to Munich, (Yes this is happening. So much to update you all with, all in due time. I promise.), I have had a lot of time to just be. I’ve been able to sit down and read a book without the thought of the critical analysis I’d need to write about it afterward. I’ve been able to go to the store just to go to the store. Observing and thinking and not on a mere hunt for the things I’d need for the upcoming week of chaos. This is a rare occurrence, I know. I am so grateful for this time to breathe. To think. To regroup.
This next move to Munich will be a whole new ballgame, a new chapter, and I have the kind of butterflies in your stomach that let you know something really really good is about to happen. Something new and scary and a new part of your life is just about to begin.
So yes, I’m trying to cherish this time, while also beyond hopeful about what’s ahead.
In this time I’ve been able to spend some time with my Grandma Gooding and help her write a bit of her life story. I come from a family of many, many cousins so I’ve never had much of a chance to talk to her one-on-one. So our Thursday lunches and afternoons filled with talking about her life are just wonderful. (I will be sad when I leave for Munich and we can’t eat at our new favorite diners and chat on Thursdays, but thank goodness there are telephone dates!)
I’ve realized that my Grandma has been sassy since she was a little girl growing up in a small town in Nebraska. I’ve learned that she has had quite the adventures and has gone through a lot of hardships. But she is just as feisty, if not more, than she was as a teenager. She is hilarious and has this brilliant ability to mention crazy stories with such nonchalance you’d think she was just talking about her shopping list…
“Oh we had the pet monkey after the our pet skunk, Fifi La’More…we’d walk Fifi around town on a leash. She had a bejeweled collar…”
You guys. It’s just as good as it sounds. Better even.
She quit her job when her friend was fired when they were teens out of solidarity.
A lady she babysat for asked her to get her cigarettes and instead of telling the lady she didn’t know how to drive, my grandma just took the keys and tried to remember how she had seen people shift gears. She made it back unharmed (thank God) cigarettes in hand and the lady never knew.
She’s a hoot. And a holler.
And one tough cookie.
More than anything though, she’s shown me that you can’t let people walk all over you, you need to demand respect, work hard–and most of all, have a little fun while you’re at it.
I’m so blessed she’s my grandma.
I love her
(and I love that I think I’ve got a bit of her sass).
A lot of it, actually…
And it’s an honor.
I love you, Grandma!