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Why I love my Nanny

December 30, 2006

The organ starts and I can hear my grandmother playing some tune and singing softly in her most beautiful voice almost like a hymn–a prayer to music itself. Nanny would get lost in meditation over her music sitting in the living room alone with the lights low except for the bright spot light over the keys. She floats as she sings and it makes me feel happy to listen to her song but also like I am spying on her doing something intimate and personal.

Earlier she would lay out her watercolor paints, peanut butter jars full of water and brushes and heavy paper for me to paint with her. Gathering some flowers from her garden, a statue of an angel and some sea shells we would paint in silence each of us trying to make our still life appear on our paper. Smiling encouragement and gentle suggestions of how to work the paint and water to get the effect I am after. A masterpiece she always replies and I feel like a genius.

Her soft, long and lovely white hair gently curls around her ears and her easy brown eyes love me up and down.

Furious love and devotion to her husband of more than 50 years gives me hope that one day I will find the man that I will love like that and who may also just love me back with the same intensity.

7 children, 9 grandchildren, 6 great-grandchildren and lifetime of love, sadness, happiness, trouble, joy and sorrow fill her face and I know that is the face of pure love.

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