Grandmothers

I have had four grandmothers, none of which I can really remember that well. The first one is only a tale to me, a person that perished before my young Dad's eyes. The stories I have heard of her make me have high expectations. She must have been wonderful and I wish I met her just once. I haven't though, so she is a mystery just like a key made for no lock or an obscure photo that lets your imagination run wild. She is a person of the past, just like the tune of my new music box with its familiar melody. 

The second one smoked her self into ashes, which are scattered around the ocean miles out from the San Diego bay, when I was young. I saved one of her dresses from the thrift store. It has become too small for me though. Also my hair is too thick and snarly so that her little old comb’s teeth would snap if she tried combing my hair again like she used to.  Even though I new her for awhile she has become the picture on her husbands bookcase, and her last love letter to him in his bathroom. For, my memories have faded and her sent has washed out of her small dress that I kept.

The third one was my first step grandmother, but all she wanted was my grandpa’s money. I still include her though, because she was once a woman with pretty dresses and a crooked smile. Who always brought presents for me and my brother every time we saw her, but now she is the gossip that spread through my family. She is the betrayal of leaving my grandpa alone again, while trying to take a big chunk of his money. Her plan had failed though, and to me, back then, she had left me with no grandma again.

The fourth one is not even blood related, she was really a fried of my mom’s mom. She lived close by, was nice, and generous, so she took the place of me and my brother’s grandmother. We even called her grandma, but I could always tell that she only became our grandmother because she adored Sam my brother. She truly loved him like her own grandson. It still hurt when she died though, because she was my grandmother too. So, always when I look into the eyes of the numerous stuffed bears she gave me they remind me of her.

These are my grandmothers from my past and truly I loved them all with their good and their bad traits because no grandmother can be perfect. Now, many years later since my last grandma, I have witnessed a marriage of two elderly lovers. So, I bring out my dusty list of dead or divorced grandmothers to add a new one.