Staff and Patient Writing

                When I was little one of my favorite things to do was go visit my Grandparent’s. They lived in a small town about an hour and a half away. The drive there was always filled with anticipation. I loved seeing my Grandparent’s. They were both so wonderful and I miss them dearly. That first hug was always the best. Both my Grandma and Grandpa were short, which was perfect because I fit right in their arms with ease. My Grandpa’s hugs were so warm and loving. I could always smell his chewing tobacco, and hints of cedar. He was a talented carpenter, and would craft these beautiful cedar chests. He made me one, which I still have. Whenever I open it, the smell of cedar is so nostalgic and comforting. For a brief moment it feels as if he is still here.

 

                My Grandma’s hugs were also equally as comforting and warm. She was this delightful, soft spoken and sweet woman. When she hugged me I felt safe and happy and couldn’t wait to see what treat she made me or new toy she had picked up for me, tucked away in the cupboard waiting for me to find. She wore a strong floral scented perfume, and I could always smell her makeup. It was Cover Girl powder, to be exact. Even her lipstick had a distinct smell. The only way I could describe it was that it just smelled like her. If I close my eyes now, I can still smell it. She always let me play with her makeup and go through her jewelry. I remember sitting on her neatly-made bed, the sun shining in through the window. Their house was quiet and still with the sound of the grandfather clock ticking away. I love that sound. As we would go through the jewelry, she would answer all of my questions about where each piece came from. I loved to run my fingers over each piece, carefully inspecting each part of it, and admiring the way it still sparkled after all those years.

 

                 I also loved playing outside with my Grandpa, or in his workshop. He always gave me wood scraps to make something. Everything was a masterpiece to him if one of his Grandkid’s made it.  He would let me climb the large poplar tree in front of their house. Sometimes I would get so high I could feel my stomach drop. To me I had climbed so high I felt I could see the whole town. My Grandpa was always watching of course, but he let me go and didn’t fear the worst. If we got to sleep over I would carefully choose what room I was going to sleep in. They had two rooms in the basement, directly across from each other. I always changed rooms every time we stayed over. One of the rooms had an orange bedspread, and oil paintings of a forest on the walls. The other room had brown wood paneling on the walls, and the closet was where my Grandpa kept his violins and sheet music. He would play for me whenever I asked, and would encourage me to sing along. I still can’t hear the song Michael Row Your Boat Ashore without immediately wanting to cry. When everyone would be all tucked in bed, I would lay there, listening to the ticking of the grandfather clock, and waiting to hear the sound of the trains coming through town. I love that sound more than anything. Still to this day, it reminds me of them,and the comfort I always felt. I never could sleep until I heard the train, but when I did I almost always smiled, and would have no problem drifting off to sleep feeling so loved and content.

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I wish I could go back to those moments, one last time.