We’re replacing this:
It’s good to have a grandma.
I mean this piece is an awesome addition to our guest room, and I’m pretty excited about it. If you’ve known me for a hot minute, you know I love things with history. And this–Trent’s grandma’s hope chest has history. So when she asked Trent if we’d, by chance, want it, since she wanted to get rid of it, I nearly jumped on his iPhone, trying to respond. I think, at one point, she or maybe his mom asked if we were sure it would fit in with our decor. Our decor (she laughed)…is another blog post.
But this hope chest, wonderful as it may be, is not really what I’m talking about when I say “It’s good to have a grandma.”
I never really had a grandma. My maternal grandmother, Mary Ann, died in 1982. I won’t make you do the math: I was very young. So I never really knew her. And my paternal grandmother? Well, she may still be alive or she may not. I have no way of knowing. So I grew up grandmother-less. And I can’t lie: it’s not a thing I lost sleep over or even really thought about. In fact, like most children in similar circumstances, I always thought that everything about my life was the norm. But now I know something I didn’t know then: grandmothers are cool.
This weekend, we’re celebrating Trent’s grandmother’s 85th birthday. I don’t even know if anyone in my family has ever lived to the age of 85. None of the ones I know of have (and I’ve done some pretty extensive ancestry research).
And so tonight we celebrate the life of a woman who is responsible for bringing my husband into the world and my life. A woman who is responsible for the new family I’ve gained through marriage. A woman who is kind and thoughtful and funny and very full of life and energy at 85 years old.
We celebrate because it’s good to have a grandma.