My grandfather was a Baptist minister. You may find that hard to believe, given the demeanor of most of my family, but it's true.
He passed away when I was seven years old. I still have many vivid memories of him and perhaps the one I love the most is spending Saturday night at my grandparents' house and then getting up early the next morning, stepping into my pressed church-going best and leaving when it was still nearly dark outside to open the church for Sunday services. He would make me a promise: If I would sit quietly while he practiced his sermon, he'd sit in the front pew with me and read me the comics before the church became abuzz with excitement. And he did just that, complete with voices for each character.
I think that most people have a "happy place" and that's mine: sitting on that front pew with my feet dangling listening to who I believed was the most powerful man in the world. Ever so often he'd look over at me and wink, never missing a beat and I was certain I was his favorite parishoner.
Tell me about your "happy place".
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Name them one by one
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5 comments:
I have been trying really hard to think of my happy place...I'm having trouble.
Just didn't want you to think I was ingoring your request.
It's funny how so many of us relate happiness to our grandparents. One of my favorite "happy places" was sitting on my grandpa's lap in their family room. We'd watch t.v. and share a bowl of popcorn or ice cream or apples and peanut butter. He worked on his semi all day, so he was usually worn out at the end of the day. This was a queit time (one of the few times I was ever quiet), but it was wonderful. Especially for a little girl who thought her grandfather was the be all end all.
My happy place? That's when you close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere in time where you had the least problems, worries, and cares, right?
I hate to say it because it sounds so boring, but it's sitting with the grandkids reading them a story and having them listen with all their little hearts.
I don't like to see them fight with each other, but way down deep there's a part of me that is delighted to see them fight over who gets to sit on my lap at storytime. I'm a lucky lady.
I don't know if it is due to the grandparents referenced in the coments but one of my happy places as a child was standing at the wash pan when I was about 5 years old and having my grandma W stand behind be and wash my hands. If I think back hard enough I can remember the softness of her wrinkled hands in the soapy water. Whenwe were done washing hands she would pat my hands dry. I wonder if Cynical has any memories like that?
When I was a teenager my family lived in the mountains of North Carolina. I used to drive up the Blue Ridge Parkway and climb to somewhere off the beaten path and look at all the land. All the homes and towns and mountains and colors. And we'd talk about what we wanted from our lives and dream about the future. I think that's probably one of my happiest times...when there were nothing but possibilities.
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