Rcently while attending a Word Weavers meeting, we were given the writing prompt ”Just know that….”. The timer was set for ten minutes, and we all began writing. This is what I wrote, slightly edited:
Just know that it will be all right in the end.
Grandma and I were sitting on her back porch on a sunny spring day. We each had a tall clear glass of lemonade with orange slices, and were looking at the garden and the bird feeder. Grandma still had natural blonde hair with a little gray on the side. She was always attentive, always ready to listen, and always ready to share a story from her own life.
This time we were talking about my upcoming marriage. Grandma was helping by embellishing the wedding dress. Not only was I getting married, but I was also moving far away from home to Atlanta, Georgia, where my to-be-husband lived.
Grandma had also moved as a young bride on the occasion of her wedding over forty years ago. She grew up in rural Iowa, but when she was 19 she left Iowa and moved to Michigan to marry my Grandpa, Henry.
It was at this moment that Grandpa joined us on the porch. He was wearing his classic blue overalls, dark gray short-sleeved shirt, and his black work shoes. As he greeted us he smiled his huge, hearty grin and touched the brim of his hat, first taking it off, adjusting, and then putting it back on again. He sauntered over to the table and Grandma scooted into the house to get him a glass of lemonade too. It was 10 a.m., time for morning coffee (or in this case, lemonade).
Grandpa looked at me with his small sparkling squinted eyes and said “How’s my pal?” I smiled back and said “Fine!”
When Grandma came back out he told us he had hauled two loads of gravel to Galesburg that morning.
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