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the view from my third story window; meet you where you're at.

Dear Grandma,

Thank you for showing up.

When I checked myself into the hospital with all my bags...

Like it was my first vacation of the year.

There is something so special about a grandmother, the same way Sunday mornings have their pastels and stillness if you let them. The same way slicing a banana makes it taste different, especially when you add it to a cream pie.

The same way vacations are better when Grandma shows up, and the long, vast, hot desert highway doesn't seem like such a long scary journey when she's sitting in the back seat of the car with you. Squeezing your hand. Smelling like silk and roses the way only grandma's do.

A mother is like the tumble of the dryer, low and quiet. Warm fresh linens result and are folded and placed carefully on top shelves. To keep watch. To stand as a barrier to the outside world that is cruel. To keep the air smelling nice and fill the home with just enough.

A grand daughter is the evening sun pulsing through the wide windows on the third story. She is the third story. She brings the promise of another spring, another laugh, a thousand more trips to the mercantile and to the lake. So many cookies and brownies to bake. So many pictures to take.

My daughter has been on the other side with me now for one month. Times have been difficult and tricky. I've been tested beyond what I feel I have the capacity for. But it is amazing how calm I feel around her. When I don't let the cruel world in, when I let the clean linens on the top shelf take over and take heed. When I surrender to motherhood and nothing else. When all the distractions fade as fast as a little grandchild can lick the banana pudding off the electric mixer spoon. I've never felt more present with something or someone, when I let myself be.

Often she'll fall asleep at an odd angle on my bed or somewhere unexpected. She looks so very lovable and precious in those moments that I can't help but to grab a pillow and just go lay by her, wherever she's at. It is my signal to her, that I will meet her where she's at. Throughout her whole life, wherever she lands, I'll meet her where she's at.

"What room number are you in?"

"I'm on the third story, the last room with all the big windows, my first hotel room of the year"

"I will meet you where you're at. I will be there soon to squeeze your hand"

Thank you, Grandma, for coming.

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