A Love Letter

I've been thinking about my Grandma's quit a bit lately, both women were lovely matriarchs of large families. The older I get the more I wish I knew about these amazing women. I have splendid memories of visiting them in Wisconsin during my childhood, but I so wish I could have known them as children and learned why they thought the way they did and what events shaped and molded them into the beautiful women I experienced. Their legacy lives in the details and memories of their children and grandchildren, a puzzle that can be pieced together by sharing those specific perceptions.

This is my small view of Arlita, my grandmother on my Dad's side. When I imagine her as a child I would say she was a whippersnapper, as a teenager; spunky, as a wife and mother; hard worker, as a grandma; sweet but sassy and as a woman; fiery.

As I write about her my mind is flooded with the great impressions she left on me. One of which was her way with words. She wrote this when I was seven and I've kept it all these years hidden in the pages of my journal.

Grandma Debee and my Dad at my wedding

A Love Letter

I wrote a letter to my kids

It was short and sweet

And when I read it over

I knew it wasn't very neat.

Should I start all over?

Tear up the messy sheet?

Indeed, they might discover my weakness

I don't write so neat.

No, I'll send it on its way

Another day I won't delay

For I want them to know today

How much I love them every day.

Poem By: Arlita Debee